


Cowboys are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other

by finefeatheredfriend



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Anal Sex, Charles is asexual in this one, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Mystery, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Power Bottom, Romance, Top Arthur Morgan, modern day homophobia, one night stand to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: New veterinarian Eli Jensen relocates to Texas to work for renowned equine veterinarian Dr. Arthur Morgan. Before he starts his new career, he spends a night making love to a stranger, not knowing how much damage one white lie can cause. While trying to make friends, build his career and kickstart his new life in the tiny town of Tahiti, Texas, Eli must overcome the barriers between him and the man he grows to love, all while navigating the intrigues of small-town life, and the dangers of enemies Arthur's family made years ago.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Original Male Character(s), Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 26
Kudos: 75





	1. Karaoke Night

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [peltonea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peltonea/pseuds/peltonea). Log in to view. 



> This fic was inspired HEAVILY by peltonea's work "i sought him who my soul loves (i sought him but found him not)" If you like Far Cry as well as Red Dead, you should definitely check it out!
> 
>  **Comments are always welcome!**  
>  Also, feel free to drop by to say hello on Tumblr. I'm @finefeatheredgamer over there <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Anal sex  
> CW: Oral sex  
> CW: mild mention of homophobia

The move had been a hard one. Born and raised in California, Eli never thought he would willingly move to Texas. Texas. "The Lonestar State," he'd been greeted as he drove across the state line from New Mexico. Recently graduated from vet school at UC Davis, he’d found himself scrambling to find a job in a difficult job market. Looking at rent costs in Cali and considering the size of his not insubstantial student loan payment, he decided he ought to look elsewhere for work.

He had visited relatives in Texas once or twice, nice people, but way more conservative than he preferred. He doubted they knew he was gay, and it wasn't exactly like it came up in conversation, but the political signs out front had told him everything he needed to know about the social opinions of the entire neighborhood. Which is exactly why he was hesitant when he had first seen to the job offer online.

"In search of recently graduated vet student for equine specialist residency. Relocation bonus and payment of first six months student loans will be included."

It was almost too good to be true. He loved horses, far preferring the big animals to the tiny, delicate and often bitey little dogs that frequently belonged to California clients. Not only that, but the money was unarguably good, especially when compared to the cost of living. So, he’d picked up the phone and, a bit nervous, called the number on the online listing. He had to imagine that whoever had posted it wasn't particularly tech savvy. No one in their right mind published a phone number on the internet if they didn't want a billion spam calls.

The phone rang four times before a timid voice answered.

"G-good Faith Veterinary Clinic, c-can you please hold?"

"Uh, sure." Tinny hold music jingled in his ear and he continued scrolling through job listings, too desperate for work to waste any time.

"Goddammit Kieran, how long've they been on hold for?!" bellowed a loud voice in the receiver, making Eli wince and hold the phone away from his ear.

"Oh, uh, uh, only a c-couple of minutes I think?"

"Well, what do they want?"

"I don't know, Doc, I had to put 'em on hold cuz Miss Jones showed up without an appointment again."

"Well, tell Karen she's gonna hafta wait then," the gruff voice drawled. "Ah shit, I accidentally picked up. Er, hello, this is Doc?"

"Hi, um, this is Dr. Jensen," he said, the new title still feeling odd in his mouth.

"Uh huh, we got a mutual client you need records for?" he asked and Eli could hear him clicking on something over the phone.

"Uh, no, actually I'm calling about your job posting."

"The job posting? Oh, the job posting. Yeah, I reckon I could use another hand around here. How are you with horses?"

"I worked on a ranch when I was younger, and I did well in my equine clinicals."

"Mmmhmm. What's your GPA outta vet school?" he asked. Eli told him, blushing a bit. "When'd you graduate?"

"This May," Eli told him. "Look, I know I'm pretty green, but the ad did say you were looking for a new graduate."

"That I am. I'll tell you what, how about you call back in...uh, about two hours and we'll do the interview over the phone."

"That....that'd be great, Dr, uh...?"

"Eh, just call me 'Doc.' Alright. Talk to you in a bit." Click.

Eli had waited the two hours and called back, disappointed when no one answered and he received the afterhours voicemail greeting for the clinic.

"You have reached the Good Faith Veterinary Clinic. Our office is currently closed. If your animal is experiencing a medical emergency, please call Doc directly at…" Eli waited for the rest of the greeting to play, left a message and decided not to dwell on it. It was just another job that wouldn't pan out, he figured, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Another two hours later and a six pack of beer deep into his woes and his phone rang. He blinked bleerily, answering the questions he was bombarded with after a brief explanation from the vet that he had to deal with an emergency and it's why he was calling late. Eli knew, after he hung up, that he had been a little too friendly, a little too informal after that beer. He cursed himself and gave up any hope of getting that particular job.

Five A.M. the next day, his phone rang. Groggily, he answered.

"'Lo?"

"Hey Eli. Gave it some thought. You're a real friendly fella, just what I'm lookin' for. Your references all spoke real highly of ya. When can you start?"

Which was how Eli found himself in the tiny town of Tahiti, Texas, an hour or so outside of Austin. He still hadn't met his employer in person yet, but that would happen on Monday. Over the phone, he had negotiated a couple of days to get himself settled and found himself needing a break from staring at and unpacking boxes in the quaint house he’d managed to rent for a fair price. It was time to relax. Eli drove to a small bar he had noticed on his way in the first time he’d seen the house, only about a ten minute drive away. "Free beer with a purchase of beer," said a tongue-in-cheek sign out front. "Karaoke Night this Friday," another declared with "Dolly Parton was not discovered here, but hey, maybe you will be?" added in smaller print.

Eli had never been one for karaoke himself, but he enjoyed watching. He made his way inside, feeling some combination of both over and under dressed. Nearly everyone in the bar was wearing plaid collared shirts or pearl snaps with jeans and boots, women and men alike. Most of the patrons were wearing a hat of some kind, some trucker's hats, others straight up cowboy hats. He’d never felt so much like a sore thumb in his AC/DC t-shirt, khaki pants and knock-off Doc Martins. No one but the bartender turned to look at him when he entered. Everyone else's eyes were glued to the man singing an old Marty Robbins song on stage.

"Shiner, please," he said after glancing over what was on tap. The bartender handed it to him and he took it distractedly, handing him his card to open a tab as he also stared at the man on stage. He was tall, over six feet with a chest like a whiskey barrel and astonishingly blue eyes occasionally obscured by his dark brown gambler's hat. Eli could cut himself on his jaw and his hair... _wow_. His hair was a gorgeous blonde-brown and nearly reached his shoulders. He was wearing a light blue pearl snap shirt with subtle vertical stripes. It was tucked into form fitting jeans that Eli surveyed appreciatively. If he had written down a list of all the things that he looked for in a one-night stand, this guy would have ticked off every one of them.

But...chances were this guy would drag him behind the bar and beat the shit out of him before he'd be interested in him as a partner. Still. He was nice to look at and his voice was gorgeous. He didn't make much eye contact with his audience, instead looking down at his boots as he sang, his long lashes and broad hat brim veiling those beautiful blue eyes.

_"One night a wild young cowboy came in wild as the West Texas wiiiiiind,"_ he sang, suddenly meeting Eli’s eyes. The singer gave a tiny smile and he felt butterflies in his stomach. _"Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing with wicked Feleena, the girl that I loved. So in anger I challenged his right for the love of this maiden, down went his hand for the gun that he wore. My challenge was answered in less than a heartbeat, the handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor..."_

The stranger finished the song to raucous applause from the audience and he graciously accepted a drink someone handed him, blushing and trying to ignore all the people who swarmed him. He managed to escape and made his way to the bar, setting down the now-empty beer glass and tipping two fingers to indicate he'd like another. He perched on the barstool next to Eli's, looking over at him with an appraising expression.

"Don't think I've seen you around before," he commented. "Buy you a drink, friend?" he asked, noting his empty beer glass. Eli’s eyebrows rose. Giving a facial shrug, he answered.

"Sure."

"Whatever he's drinkin', please, Javier." A beer was sat in front of him and he took a long draw, swallowing with a small sigh and licking his lips. Eli noticed the man's eyes watching him as he did so and he flushed slightly.

"Er, thanks for the drink."

"Course. So, what brings you around here?"

"The karaoke," Eli joked. He chuckled. "You've got a real nice voice," Eli told him honestly.

"'Ppreciate it," he said, taking a drink of his own beer. He held out a big hand for Eli to shake. "Arthur Morgan," he told him. Eli wasn't sure how this evening would go, nor was he sure of the man's intentions, but a desire for caution suffused him. If this guy became a problem...

"Mark," he said, his middle name, a thing close enough to the truth to feel natural.

"Nice to meet you, Mark." It was obvious Arthur wanted to say something more, but was uncomfortable. "You, uh, you sing?" Eli blurted a chuckle.

"Absolutely not."

"Huh. Said you came here for the karaoke," he teased.

"To watch," Eli admitted, giving him a coy look. "And to enjoy." Arthur smirked, running a finger around the top of his beer glass.

"Alright then, what kind of music do you like?"

"Classic rock," he answered immediately. "AC/DC," he said, pointing at his shirt, "Led Zeppelin, Queen."

"I like Queen," Arthur commented readily. Eli quirked a brow. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Really? I didn't expect that." Might as well be honest. Arthur chuckled.

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Big Texas dude. Figured you’d be more of a Kenny Chesney kinda guy."

"Ah, come on, don't insult me," he chuckled. "And, I ain't from Texas originally. But I like Queen. I like a lotta music. Might sing some more for ya later." That sent an odd shock of desire through Eli as Arthur met his eyes with an intensity he didn't expect from someone who just wanted to be his friend.

"For me, huh?" he studied his expression, searching for hidden motives and Arthur seemed to be doing the same to him.

"Sure," he said, but the way he said it sounded more like "shoa." Eli grinned. He liked his accent.

"Speaking of, Arthur, you up for another?" asked the lean man who was working as both bartender and DJ.

"Sure, Javier. Let me see the binder." The bartender handed Arthur a binder full of songs and he pulled it so that Eli couldn't see it, conspiratorially flipping through the pages. "That one," Arthur said, grinning. Javier met his eyes, smirked.

"Alright then, amigo. I'll get it spun up." A few more singers went and Eli sat quietly next to Arthur, chatting about inane subjects. He owned a ranch, he told Eli, and took care of his dads, he said.

"Wait...your _dads?"_ Eli asked, to clarify. Arthur's lip curled.

"You got a problem with that?" he asked in a voice low and threatening.

"Absolutely not," he answered immediately, relief flooding him. Arthur relaxed. "I just wasn't expecting that in this area."

"This area?" he asked, frowning.

"Texas," Eli settled on in a helpless tone, after a moment's thought. Arthur laughed.

"It ain't as bad as all the pamphlets read," he joked. Eli gave an amused chuckle.

"Well, that's a relief." Arthur stared at him for a moment.

"Another?" he asked. Eli was at least four deep at this point, having been enjoying himself chatting with the big singer for the past hour or so.

"Why not?" he asked, accepting another. _What is this?_ he wondered. _Does he want me?_ He thought so. Maybe.

"Arthur. You're up," Javier said, polishing a glass and then clicking something on his laptop. "You wanna do the intro?" Arthur laughed.

"Shoa." He stepped up to the mic and the sound of guitar picking began. "Some of y'all may recognize this one. Willie Nelson made it popular. It's about, uh," he chuckled, "gay cowboys. It's kinda topical for me, cuz, uh, I'm a cowboy." There was a low chuckle from the crowded audience, as though they were all sharing a wickedly good inside joke.

Orville Peck. Orville fucking Peck was who Arthur was choosing to cover? Jesus, maybe there was a chance here. A low streak of desire filled Eli. From the stage, Arthur caught his eye as he began to sing.

_"Well, there's many a strange impulse out on the plains of West Texas. There's many a young boy who feels things he can't comprehend. And a small town don't like it when somebody falls between sexes. No, a small town don't like it when a cowboy has feelings for men. And I believe to my soul that inside every man there's..."_

"Oh fuck," Eli muttered under his breath. From beneath his gambler's hat, Arthur kept seeking him out, though he wandered through the crowded bar with his beer, getting closer to the stage. He sat down almost directly in front of him, the words of the song vibrating through him from the speakers all around. Arthur's vibrato was beautiful, and his delivery of the song was entertaining, earning whoops and hollers from all over the bar. Clearly he was a crowd favorite here.

Arthur stepped off the stage, handing the mic to the next singer before jerking his head in a "come with me" motion. Eli followed without hesitation, leaving his empty glass behind. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, comfortably buzzed, and he could feel the front of his pants growing a bit tight. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down as he followed Arthur down a poorly lit hallway to the bathrooms. He closed the door behind him, latching it, and nearly before he could turn around, Arthur’s hands were on him, his mouth seeking Eli’s. Eli gave a soft whimpering moan as his hand palmed his ass, his other tugging the back of his neck so he could kiss him harder. He leaned forward, standing up on his tiptoes to push back into the kiss, his forehead knocking Arthur’s hat off. He seemed not to notice.

Pulling back, his breathing ragged, he met those gorgeous blue-green eyes, which were soft in the dimly lit bathroom.

"You got a condom?" Eli asked, his heart beating hard as lust coursed through him. Arthur fumbled in his pocket for a moment, pulling one out. Arthur turned him around to face the bathroom counter and he unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants and his underwear down. In the bathroom mirror, Eli could see Arthur biting his lower lip as he surveyed his backside. All those squats had paid off, he thought with satisfaction. Arthur’s belt buckle jingled and he slid his pants down as well, palming himself to urgent hardness. Glancing over his shoulder to get a good look at him, Eli nearly moaned. Arthur was perfectly in proportion, long and thick, the head red with desire, curving up and slightly to the left. Arthur rolled the condom on and kissed Eli’s shoulder. He was being oddly tender for a guy who was about to fuck him in a bar bathroom, Eli thought.

Arthur slid his hand down his back and prodded at his hole with his finger, swirling the tip against the sensitive skin around the pucker of flesh between his cheeks. Eli pressed back into him, letting out a soft whine as Arthur spit on his finger and then pressed it inside of him.

"Oh fuck," Eli whimpered as he began working him, his blunt fingertip bumping against his prostate, sending a shiver through him that made him curl his toes. Arthur was gentle, going slowly and Eli cursed himself for not being better prepared. He’d only gone to the bar to get a drink, but he knew he really should have been ready for anything. Lube, at least, he thought, remembering his heady undergrad days. Thankfully, he was buzzed enough to relax and the lubrication on the condom proved enough as Arthur pressed the thick head of his cock against his hole and then sank into him from behind with a rumble of pleasure.

"Oh, God, you're tight," he murmured, grabbing at his hips and resting his forehead against his back. The thickness of him was beginning to hurt with the way he just stopped, filling him. Eli wiggled, spreading his legs a bit farther apart to ease the dull ache.

"Fuck me," he asked him, "please." Arthur let out a sound that could only be described as a purr as he began a slow, steady in and out rhythm of thrusts within him. Eli threw his head back, letting soft moans and whines bubble out of his mouth as Arthur fucked him. "Faster," he pleaded, and Arthur obliged, making him have to grab onto the counter to keep his balance as he began a quick, rough pistoning into Eli, the head of his thick cock massaging his prostate as Eli palmed his own cock with his free hand.

The slap of Arthur’s hips against his own was nearly overwhelming, desire coursing through him as this big man filled him, fucked him until he began to be sore with the girth of him. He growled and moaned behind Eli, clearly enjoying himself. He reached around his hips as his rhythm slowed again, stroking Eli’s cock with a confident hand, occasionally grasping at and massaging his balls until he whined.

"Can't be in here all night," Arthur muttered in a disappointed tone, and Eli nodded, knowing they needed to finish and get the hell out of here. As though in answer, there was a knock at the door.

"Fuck," Eli muttered.

"Just a minute," Arthur called in a strained voice, his thrusts into Eli growing erratic and urgent and at last he felt him clench, heard him make a strangled noise in his throat as he came within him. Eli was nowhere near done, but it would have to wait. Arthur pulled out of him, and Eli yanked his pants up, tucking his uncomfortable erection into his waistband so that it wasn't obvious. "Sorry," Arthur muttered.

"'S okay," he answered, still breathless from a damn good fucking he wished could have continued. "Shit, how do we get outta here?" he pointed out. Arthur laughed and picked up his hat.

"Through the door," and with that, he stepped out, Eli following close behind him. The man waiting in line went a little wide-eyed and Eli resisted the urge to give a tittering laugh at his expression. "Follow me," Arthur directed him, and he obliged as the bigger man guided him through the crowded bar and stepped outside into the warm night. Arthur lit a cigarette, sighing out a massive cloud of smoke. He offered Eli a drag, but he shook his head. "Sorry about that. If you, uh, if you wanna come back to my place we can...?"

His offer stood on the night air, Eli considering it amid the songs of crickets and the buzz of the halogen light above them. Eli shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" Eli was strong and capable and only a bit smaller than Arthur. Plus, if Arthur had any intention of doing something bad to him, plenty of people had just watched them leave together.

"Alright." Arthur reached out a hand, took his. Eli was surprised at the gesture, but it wasn't unwelcome. "I don't usually...uh..."

"I do sometimes," he admitted, thinking of his college years and thanking his lucky stars he’d never caught anything from any of his one-night stands.

"Want to follow me back to my place, or you want a ride?" Arthur asked.

"I probly shouldn't drive," Eli admitted. He nodded.

"That's fine. I can give you a ride back to pick up your car later." With that, Eli followed Arthur to his vehicle, a late eighties Bronco. The door squealed when he opened it, but the leather seats within were well-oiled. The vehicle was clearly well taken care of. Arthur started it up after a temperamental splutter from the engine. He patted the dashboard encouragingly. "You're alright, boah," he told the truck, and Eli had to resist a chuckle.

The ride to Arthur’s place was pleasant. Eli cranked the window down and Arthur turned on some soft rock. They rode in silence, Eli staring up at the stars, surprised at how many he could see. Arthur pulled into a driveway over which was posted a sign.

"Van der Linde Ranch," it said in cast-iron letters. The driveway was nearly a half-mile long. Eli was astonished at how big the place seemed, even in the low light. Cattle could be heard bellowing distantly.

"Nice place," he commented, seeing the large ranch-style house at the end of the driveway.

"That's my dads’ place," Arthur corrected him. "I've got an apartment in the barn." He pulled up and put the Bronco in park before shutting it off. Looking over at Eli, Arthur met his eyes intently. "You still want to come inside?" he asked, as though he hadn't just ridden with him for nearly twenty minutes to get to his place with express purpose of fucking.

"Sure," Eli said, and he followed him into the barn and up a set of stairs to a surprisingly nice apartment that took up the whole second story of the building. Eli followed him into the kitchen, looking around at his decor. A lot of blue, and a lot of paintings of landscapes and cowboys on horseback. The dude clearly longed for simpler times. He poured Eli a glass of water and he accepted it thankfully, meandering into his living room and looking over his bookcase. Lots of books about horses and cattle, several dimestore western novels, including all of Louis Lamour's work. There were several cowboy hats hanging on a rack and an assortment of western style boots cluttered the floor beneath it. The dude was the real deal, he thought with a small smile.

"So, you, uh…?" Arthur started, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Sure," Eli said softly, setting his glass down on the glass coffee table and stepping up to him. He reached a hand up and cupped the back of Arthur’s head, pulling him down for a kiss. Arthur’s hands roamed over his body, cupping his groin and pushing him back onto his plush leather couch. For a few minutes, they just ground together, Arthur bringing Eli back to arousal, his big hands massaging his shoulders, his ass. Given that Arthur was in his mid-thirties at least, Eli was impressed when he felt him growing erect again too. He moaned beneath the bigger man as he thrusted through his pants against Eli. Unzipping Eli’s pants, Arthur pulled him out, surveying his cock for a moment in the way one would observe a painting at a museum. It was like he thought Eli was a work of art.

Arthur pulled Eli’s t-shirt off and he allowed Arthur to strip away his pants and underwear so that he was naked beneath Arthur’s massive body on the couch, his back against the soft leather.

"You are gorgeous," he told Eli.

"You aren't bad yourself, cowboy," Eli grinned back, palming him through his jeans.

"Mmmph," Arthur made a sound of pleasure and went to his knees between Eli's legs, taking his cock into his mouth and sucking expertly.

"Oh fuck," Eli mumbled, biting his own knuckle as the warmth and wetness of Arthur's mouth slid over him. Eli met those too-blue eyes and watched his thick pink lips sucked tight against his cock and felt himself twitch, spurting precum into his mouth. Eli worked his fingers into Arthur’s hair, setting his hat to the side and tangling in the soft locks as Arthur continued his ministrations, letting Eli pump into his mouth. Eli threw his head back and let open-mouthed whines pour out. After a moment, Arthur stood, holding up a finger to indicate that he would be back. He returned with another condom and slid it onto himself.

"Want to go again?" he asked in a husky voice.

"Yes," Eli answered immediately.

"Come here, then," Arthur purred and Eli followed him to his bedroom, letting Arthur lay him down and kiss him tenderly. Taking his time as he caressed him, Arthur put Eli on his back, his legs resting on his shoulders as Arthur pressed into him, this time adding lube, which made everything feel smoother and even better than before. Eli huffed a small whine as Arthur’s cock pressed into his prostate and a sticky string of precum leaked onto his belly. This time as he fucked Eli, Arthur slid his hand up and down his shaft, matching the movements of his hips with his hand. Eli reached his arms up and scratched at the thick muscles of his back and his arms, grasping at Arthur as he panted, his hips rolling into Eli’s as he hung on for dear life. After what seemed only a short time later, Eli felt himself come undone, spurting cum over his chest and belly with a surprised look. This big country fella had really pushed all the right buttons for him, Eli realized, blushing. Arthur thrusted into him still, milking the last of his orgasm until he felt empty and exhausted.

"Jesus, that was...really good," Eli said softly when Arthur pulled out and disposed of the condom, bringing him a warm wet rag to clean himself up. Eli did so and turned on his side as Arthur joined him on the bed.

"If you wanna stay, that's fine, I just got work early in the mornin'," he said, "So you’d have to stay all day until I get back. It's Saturday, though, if you just wanted to laze around my place."

"I've actually got a few things I need to do tomorrow," Eli admitted, curious about what Arthur did for a living that required him to work on a Saturday, but not wanting to ask, not wanting to get too attached. "Can you give me a ride back to my jeep? I'm pretty sober now."

"Sure. Have another glass of water before we go," Arthur advised, and he did so, feeling his head clear even more, feeling oddly appreciative of Arthur’s concern for him. In the clarity of being sober, Eli was a little embarrassed, his cheeks going red as he gathered his scattered clothing and pulled it back on. He really liked Arthur.

"I had a really good time," he told Arthur as he climbed out of his Bronco once they made it back to the bar.

"I did too," Arthur said, taking his hand again. Eli frowned slightly. He wasn't sure he wanted to start anything with someone so soon moving to a new place. Hell, he hadn't even met his co-workers yet and he was barely moved in to his new house. Now wasn't really the time. But those big blue eyes. Jesus, Arthur was gorgeous. "If you ever want to...do anything like that again, or...maybe just get a coffee or a beer...?" Arthur pulled a leather bound book out of his glovebox, wrote down something and then tore a piece of the page out, handing it to Eli. There was a number written on it, and when Eli looked back up at him, Arthur’s expression was earnestly hopeful. Eli smiled.

"I'll let you know," he said, a non-answer. Eli watched as he drove away and stared at the slip of paper. Where had he seen that number before? Well. Didn’t matter. He would probably never call.

The rest of Eli’s weekend was spent unpacking boxes and organizing. There were a few things he needed to really make the house a home, but it would have to wait until his first paycheck. In the meantime, he reviewed a few of his textbooks and watched television, trying very hard not to think about the slip of paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

Monday came too soon and Eli woke up early, pulling on a scrub top, a pair of jeans and a pair of leather work boots before climbing into his jeep and using Google Maps to find the clinic. It appeared nice on the outside, clean lines and a barn that looked oddly similar to Arthur's place. Damn. He really had to get that guy out of his head, he thought, stepping into the clinic lobby.

"Good morning, do you have an appointment?" asked a beleaguered-looking vet tech with a slight stutter. He had a wispy beard and was wearing a simple straw hat with his turquoise scrubs, giving him a gawky appearance.

"I'm the new vet, actually, Dr. Jensen. Supposed to start today."

"Oh! Well, welcome, welcome!" he greeted Eli, holding out a hand awkwardly since his other arm was pinning half a dozen file folders to his side. "I'm Kieran Duffy, it's sure nice to meet you. Let me go get Doc."

The small man disappeared and Eli stared around the lobby, noting the decor. Landscapes. Cowboys on horseback. His eyes trailed to the massive diploma on the wall.

"Texas A&M University To all to whom these presents may come greeting be it known that Arthur Morgan having completed the studies and satisfied the requirements..." The rest of the words blurred as shock filled him.

"Oh shit," he mumbled, just as a big man lumbered into the lobby.

"Morning, I hear our new...doctor...oh..." Eli stared at Arthur, feeling the blood drain from his face, remembering what Arthur’s lips looked like wrapped around his cock, remembering what Arthur's cock looked like buried inside of him...Eli swallowed.

"Uh, hey," Eli greeted lamely. "I'm Dr. Jensen. Dr. Eli _Mark_ Jensen."


	2. Dinner and Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli has his first week of work with Arthur and has to decide if this will all work out.

Eli sat in Arthur's office, picking at a strand of frayed material at the edge of his scrub top. Arthur was wordless, resolutely staring at his screen and typing in information to fill out Eli's W-2.

"What's your date of birth?" Arthur asked emotionlessly, though Eli thought he could see a glance of curiosity from Arthur. He answered quietly, waiting for Arthur to plug the information in.

"DEA number?" Eli gave it.

"Arthur..."

"Doc," Arthur corrected quietly, "or Dr. Morgan." Eli sighed.

"Arthur," he insisted, feeling that too much had been shared between them to use his last name for what he was about to say, "are you sure you still want me to take this job? I can, um...I can figure something else out." Arthur met his eyes, his own cold, stony.

"You're a decent vet, Jensen. Do your work, don't screw up and things will be fine."

"Arthur..."

"Doc," he forced, his voice raising.

"Doc," Eli agreed, timid. "I..." What did he say? 'I really did have a good time.' 'I'm excited for the opportunity to work with you.' 'I'm really sorry I let you put your dick in my ass.' Nothing sounded right. "I'm sorry," he settled on. Arthur hummed a noise of acknowledgment, but not agreement. Arthur filled out the prerequisite paperwork, had Eli sign a few things and then made eye contact with him for the first time since they had recognized one another in the clinic lobby.

"Kieran will give ya a tour of the clinic and the barn. Don't be surprised if John drops by. He's my adopted brother. He's a jackass, but he means well. He's in construction. His wife, Abby, may stop by sometimes with their son Jack. She's a schoolteacher at the local high school. Helps out with FFA and 4H. She's a bit gruff, but she's all bark. And..." Arthur cleared his throat, "it's a tradition that new staff has dinner with me and my dads the first Friday they work."

"If it's too awkward..." Eli started, trying to offer Arthur an out.

"It'll be more of a pain in my ass if we don't," he said at the same time, meeting Eli's eyes firmly, his face looking vaguely irritated. "I'd never hear the end of it and...I'd have to admit the reason why you aren't invited to a new employee dinner," Arthur admitted in a defeated tone, leaning back in his office chair. He looked away, scratching at his jaw in irritation before he grabbed his stethoscope and hung it around his neck, switching back to a stern, professional demeanor. "In the meantime, you'll ghost me, get to know my clients. I'll want to see what you know. Let me be clear, Eli. Whatever was between us, whatever you may think, you show yourself to be anything but competent, and you're outta here." Eli nodded, swallowing.

"I didn't mean..." he started. Arthur held up a hand.

"I don't care," he cut the younger vet off simply, pulling out an honest-to-God pocket watch, chain and all, to check the time. "Now come on. I got three horses need gelding. Get your gear and let's go. You can get the tour after." Nervous, Eli grabbed his equipment from his jeep, following Arthur to his Bronco, which roared to life.

Switching on the radio, Arthur ignored Eli completely.

The Eagles sang quietly until the gruff man turned up the volume to drown out any hope of conversation. Eli wasn't quite sure what to say anyway, but he couldn't just leave it.

"Arthur," Eli said just loudly enough that he could be heard over the radio, "can we talk?"

"Nope. We need to keep things professional. What happened this weekend...it weren't meant to happen. Best move on from it." Eli nodded.

"Fair enough."

Eli followed Arthur for the rest of the day, shaking clients' hands, showing his skills, feeling his chest warm when Arthur nodded with satisfaction at his work. Lunch came quickly and Arthur drove up to an old wooden building labeled "The Feed Barn" that looked more like a shack than a restaurant.

"Whatdya want to eat?" Arthur asked Eli.

"Erm, I guess a burger, no onions," Eli responded, glancing over the drive through menu. Arthur nodded, ordered.

"Drink?"

"Dr. Pepper," Eli answered.

"Good choice," Arthur said absently, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "I've gotcha," he said, interrupting Eli as he tried to pull out his wallet as well.

"You sure?"

Arthur scowled at him.

"I'm your employer, Jensen. I can buy you lunch." Eli clamped his mouth shut, wishing he could undo the last week, or at least the last weekend. He wanted to make a joke of it, to make light of it, and move on, but Arthur seemed deeply uncomfortable and even hurt by what had transpired. Well. There was nothing to be done for it now but try to be professional, Eli figured. The waitress at the window smiled widely at Arthur.

"Well, hey there, Doc, how've you been?"

"Oh, I've been fine, Mrs. Downes, how's things?"

"Not too bad. Thomas went in for his last round of chemo last week."

"Well, good to hear he's nearly done with all that."

"Yep, fingers crossed he goes into remission," she said, handing him a greasy brown bag full of food.

"Well, you take care of yourself. Tell them kids of yours I said 'hello'"

"Will do, Doc." Arthur tipped his hat and pulled out of the driveway, the suspension of his old truck creaking in protest.

"So," Eli asked, having taken a bite of his burger and swallowed. "Why'd you get into vet med?"

"I like horses," Arthur answered simply around a mouthful of burger.

"Hmm," Eli responded. "Thought I wanted to be a zookeeper for a while." There was an awkward silence. "Realized that was even more competitive than vet med. Still majored in conservation bio, though," he went on, feeling awkward.

"I've seen your transcripts," Arthur said tersely, cutting off any further conversation as he downed his burger. "Alright, we got a two o' clock appointment for Coggins' tests over at the Balfours. Let's get goin'." Arthur snarfed down the last of his burger and drained his Dr Pepper regretfully. Eli offered his, but Arthur ignored the gesture. They stepped out of the truck and greeted the husband and wife, Arthur introducing Eli easily, as though there was no awkwardness between them. And so went the day, meeting very friendly clients and dealing with a very unfriendly Arthur whenever clients were not present. When five o' clock came, Eli felt nothing but relief, and dread for the following day. His dread was misplaced. Arthur let him see clients on his own the very next day, hardly interacting with his new employee at all. Eli spent his day vaccinating farm dogs and castrating a few pigs, as well as collecting samples for trich tests in nearly fifty cows, and by the end of the day, he was tired, sweaty and ready for a cold beer.

Eli knew he couldn't make up for lying about his name, or at least for covering the truth of his name, but he genuinely liked Arthur and genuinely wanted a better relationship with his boss than he currently had. So far he got along well with the vet techs, Kieran, Lenny and Mary Beth, as well as the clinic manager Miss Grimshaw.

"Want to grab a beer, Doc?" he offered as Arthur locked up. The taller, older man gave Eli a withering look.

"No." He stepped to his Bronco.

"Alright. Have a good night," Eli called after him, shrinking under the force of Arthur's gaze.

Well. At least it was a job.

That night, Eli got home and called one of his old college friends. The line rang, and rang, and rang, and just as he was about to give up and text her, finally she answered.

"Hey Eli!" Nicole greeted, her typical bubbly self. She was a zookeeper at San Diego Zoo, a longtime friend of Eli's and an eternal optimist.

"Nicole, I'm glad you picked up," he started, wistful. "I, um. I think I fucked up."

"What's the matter? How's the new job?" Eli spent the next twenty minutes or so recounting the course of his weekend events. There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Nicole?"

"I'm here," she laughed. "Just, uh, processing. Wow. You fucked your boss." Eli scowled.

"I mean..." he started, but he felt a blush suffuse his face. Over the line, Nicole laughed again.

"It could be worse. He could have been your anatomy professor." Eli groaned, remembering a drunken night in which he had hit on one of his professors at a college bar across from campus.

"Why am I like this?" he moaned. Nicole laughed.

"I think you're attracted to confident guys."

"That's the thing, though," Eli objected. "Arthur's not that confident. He kind of carries himself with an air of someone who doesn't think he deserves better. But he does. God, Nicole, he...he was so damn sweet. And he's tall. And his eyes, fuck, they're the color of the ocean," and he realized now that he was gushing. From over the phone he heard Nicole laughing.

"And how was he in bed?"

"Jesus, Nicole!" Eli laughed, feeling himself blush more deeply, remembering writhing beneath Arthur, remembering the girth of him, the tenderness of his hands, the plushness of his lips. Eli swallowed and then scowled audibly. "You've heard the term 'big dick energy'?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Arthur reeks of it," he said softly, laughing again.

"It's not the size of the ship..."

"It's the motion of the ocean," they said in unison, laughing at their old joke.

"But really. If he weren't my boss..."

"Oh _shit._ You're falling for him!"

"I am not falling for a dude after a one-night stand," Eli insisted, offended.

"Eli...do not fall in love with him," Nicole ordered forcefully. Eli snorted.

"I'm not going to."

"You better not."

"Look, there are...other things to talk about," he laughed.

"Oh yeah, like the fact that you freaking moved to Texas?! What is it like? Tell me everything!" Eli spent the next hour or so chatting with Nicole, sipping on a beer and staring out his back window at a squirrel that seemed intent on keeping birds away from the empty bird feeder. Old habits die hard, Eli supposed. He felt better after his conversation with Nicole, but he still felt awkward, and incredibly lonely. Tomorrow was another day, though.

Eli trudged through the rest of the week, wildly relieved when Friday finally appeared before he realized that not only did he still work the next day, but that he had dinner with Arthur, some of the staff and his family that evening. Arthur let him leave work at noon, his gruff demeanor softening slightly when he mentioned dinner.

"You remember how to get there?" he asked quietly, his cheeks and the ends of his ears going red.

"Can you just text me the address?" Eli asked. "I...I'm not so good with directions." Arthur nodded.

"Shoa."

"Alright. See you tonight."

"Yep," Arthur said, not looking up from where he was laboriously entering something into a spreadsheet at his desk.

\--------

Eli pulled up to the familiar farmhouse, praying he remembered correctly and that the dinner was going to be at the ranch house and not the barn. He didn't know if he could behave normally if he was expected to sit at that couch after dinner, didn't know if he could keep himself from staring at the bedroom door where Arthur had...oh fuck he really had to stop that line of thought. He knocked on the gorgeous oak and iron door, not surprised to hear a dog barking inside. Of course people who owned a ranch would have a dog. At least Eli would have someone to socialize with if the evening went to shit.

"Cain, that's enough!" came a deep, oddly scratchy voice. A huge man answered the door, pushing a large Catahoula hound mix out of the way. The man had to be at least six and a half feet tall and his dark black hair was slicked back into an attractive coif. He sported a thick black mustache and was wearing a fine silk dress shirt and a red waist coat with ebony dress pants and brightly shined patent leather shoes. "Come in, come in, you must be Arthur's new colleague," he greeted, ushering Eli in. Eli held out the bottle of whiskey he had brought with him awkwardly.

"I'll take that," said a smaller, older man, approaching. He was wearing a soft blue shirt and his blonde-white hair was also neatly styled. Eli's eyebrows rose.

"You're..."

"Hosea Matthews, yes, yes," the older man said with a small smile. "I'm guessing you've seen some of my movies. Well, enough of that, come on in, have a seat if you like. These brutes all have such terrible manners. This is my husband, Dutch van der Linde, and that, as you know, is Arthur," he said gesturing toward his adoptive son who was frying something on the stovetop in the kitchen. Arthur waved briefly at Eli, a cursory greeting. "I'm afraid our other son, John, won't be joining us this evening. Something to do with a parent-teacher conference with our grandson Jack."

"Oh please do not call him that, Hosea, I am still not ready to be a grandfather," Dutch objected, looking actually distressed.

"Too late, my love, too late," Hosea pointed out, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "So, are you a whiskey fellow," he shook the bottle Eli had brought, "or a wine fellow or are you, like our dear son Arthur, a degenerate beer drinker?" Hosea asked, but his tone was filled with affection when he spoke about Arthur. For a moment Eli wanted to request water, but he had been offered a drink, so a drink he would have.

"Beer's fine," he answered, a little breathlessly as he stared around the gorgeous home. He recognized Hosea from a series of detective movies from two decades before. He never thought to meet the leading man.

"A beer for your guest, then, Arthur," Hosea called loudly.

"If he's gonna be workin' for me, he's gonna be here often enough. Glasses are in that cabinet," Arthur pointed, "and there's a kegerator through the garage door there. All stuff I brewed, hope you like it." Eli took a glass and stepped into the garage, taking a deep breath to settle himself. Arthur came from the kind of family he could only have hoped for. Not for the last time he cursed himself for lying to Arthur. His employment status aside, what if they could have made it work? He poured his beer and took a sip. It was crisp, clean and remarkably refreshing.

"I have managed to insult the kindest, most talented man I have ever met," he concluded under his breath in a woeful tone, shaking his head and stepping back inside.

"Well, what do you think of Arthur's summer lager?" Hosea asked Eli. "He made a very fine porter once, but I'm more of a wine drinker myself." Eli was still a bit in awe of him, but he nodded, wiping away the beer foam from his upper lip.

"It's really, really good, Doc," he said, addressing his employer.

"Oh, none of that here, son," Dutch said for Arthur, who glared from behind him where he was still preparing dinner. "Just call him 'Arthur.'"

"Yeah, I don't have many other names I go by," Arthur said stiffly and Eli swallowed with a click, hoping Dutch and Hosea didn't sense the discomfort between them. "Steaks'll be ready in a bit if y'all want to have a seat. Hosea, you wanna grab that salad there?"

"Are Kieran or any of the others coming?" Eli asked.

"We had a late day. An HBC come in right at five. And Mary Beth had a date, so no, it's just us," Arthur answered in an odd, strangled tone. Eli nodded and helped move food to the dinner table. Eli found himself at the far end of the table from Arthur, seated as the guest of honor. Arthur resolutely avoided eye contact with him, instead fussing over the thick steaks he had cooked as Hosea dished salad onto all of their plates.

"Mmm, this dressing is delicious," Eli said honestly as he took a bite.

"Another of Arthur's creations, if you can believe it. He's quite the talented cook. I think he could serve you a gourmet meal using nothing more than a campfire," Hosea declared proudly. "So tell us about yourself, Eli, what made you move all this way to Texas? Arthur tells us you're from California. A wretched place," he finished, but his eyes were glittering with humor.

"Well, the job," Eli said frankly. "The job market isn't the best at the moment, and I just couldn't turn down the pay. Plus I really liked Arthur...even before I met him at the clinic," Eli said, trying to keep his tone neutral. Arthur glanced up, glaring at him from beneath caterpillar brows pulled together in irritation.

"And, uh, what made you want to be a veterinarian as opposed to a lawyer or an underwater basket weaver, then?" Hosea asked, seeming genuinely interested. Eli smiled fondly. It was a question he greatly enjoyed answering.

"I like people, Mr. Matthews, but I adore animals. They make better companions and more interesting conversation than most people I've met and they don't even speak English. I wanted to help them and the people who love them. And I love science, love the natural world. There's beauty in both the simplicity and the complexity of life, so I wanted to study it. Just seemed to make sense." Eli shrugged.

"Well, that is very nice, but it's not much of a living unless you're lucky enough to have rich clients," Dutch said, making a point that Eli knew was very true.

"Oh hush, you're in environmental law, you don't get a say," Hosea cut him off and Eli had to chuckle at that.

"Environmental law, what's that like?" he asked. Dutch sucked in a breath to answer and Hosea muttered,

"Oh Lord now you've got him started." Eli spent the next fifteen or so minutes able to finish his steak (which was delicious) and the grilled veggies that he had also been served (they were heavenly - Arthur really was a good cook) as Dutch ranted about evil oil and gas corporations, up to and including their violation of sacred Native American land.

"I mean it's just a travesty the evil things they get away with in the name of what? _Profit,_ that is what. It's all a sham. And they'll learn, oh yes, when you strip away the 'civilization' and the 'humanity' and the business meetings, they're all just wolves and the people who give them power are the sheep. I strive," he said, poking himself in the sternum with a thick finger ornamented with gold rings, "to be a sheepdog. Protecting the people, and by that process, the planet." Dutch stared at Eli with such a look of intensity that he thought he should say something in response, or maybe applaud, but Hosea, thankfully, distracted him.

"Dear, would you please go get me another glass of wine, I seem to have forgotten the bottle."

"You still have half a glass," Dutch objected. Hosea gave him a stern look and he seemed to take a hint. "Would you like another, son?" he asked Eli, reaching for his pint glass and the moniker sent a warm streak through Eli's chest.

"Yes, please," he answered. When Dutch returned, he focused his attention on Arthur.

"Arthur, how did that meeting with Colm go?"

"Now, I've told you, I don't think you should be doing any work for that group. They're former IRA, I just know it," Hosea objected, but Dutch grabbed his hand to still him. Arthur gave an irritated look.

"They still want me to look at them horses. Told 'em I would, but I'm keepin' it all above board."

"Uh huh, but you know they certainly won't," Hosea said, sounding heated. He turned to Eli. "Arthur here is quite renowned as a horse vet. Unfortunately that means that a few nefarious individuals would like to use his services. Dangerous individuals," he finished, clearly worried for his son.

"It's fine, Hosea, really. How's that theater production going?" Arthur asked, obviously to change the subject. Hosea lit up.

"Very well, very well. We've decided to go with The Wizard of Oz this season," Hosea said happily. "You know, Arthur, we could still use a Cowardly Lion and a Tinman if you wanted to help out."

"Nah, I will leave the musicals in your very capable hands, Hosea."

"You haven't performed in one of my musicals since you were in college. Come now, Arthur. It's no Fenton, but they're both lovely roles." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'll think on it," he promised. He met Eli's eyes across the table and gave the smallest of smiles before wiping his mouth with his napkin. "So, uh, Eli, what're your plans now that you've moved to Texas?" Eli had not been expecting that question. Frankly he hadn't thought beyond the first paycheck.

"Honestly...I don't know. I'd like to work for you for a while, see how things go."

"Maybe settle down, marry a nice girl," Hosea teased. Eli gave an uncomfortable smile at that.

"Maybe," he said neutrally.

"What about your parents, what do they think of your move?" Hosea asked and Eli nearly choked.

"I haven't spoken to my parents in...several years."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Hosea said, dropping the subject immediately, but he studied Eli for a moment, seeming to draw sadness from Eli's expression onto his own features. "Well, what about friends? Have you met anyone yet?"

"Oh, um, I met a few people who seem pretty nice," Eli answered awkwardly, glancing at Arthur, who looked away immediately. Despite the awkward situation, Eli found himself wanting to be completely honest with Hosea, found him so fatherly it was almost overwhelming, especially after a couple of pints of home-brewed beer and a belly full of good food. Ignoring the presence of Arthur at the end of the table, he smiled and met Hosea's friendly gaze. "I'm sure I'll meet more people soon. I didn't really have that many people where I came from. I had..." He paused for a moment and came right out with it. "I had a b-boyfriend, but, it didn't pan out." Hosea looked at Eli knowingly as though it were no shock that he was gay as well. "All of my friends live in California or Oregon. And...well, like I said I don't talk to my parents for reasons you can probably guess." He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared down at his lap for a moment.

"Hmm. Well, you'll be happy to know that this community is very welcoming to us. We haven't had many issues, isn't that right Arthur?"

"No major ones," he agreed with a shrug, taking a sip of his own beer and glancing at Eli.

_If you didn't count being lied to,_ his expression clearly read.

"You know, now that I think of it, Arthur met quite a nice young man the other day to hear him tell it. It was all he could talk about," Hosea laughed, looking over at Arthur who went quite still and a little wide-eyed. "Met him Friday night and he was all he wanted to talk about all Saturday and Sunday. What was his name, Matthew, Mark? Perhaps Luke or John?" Hosea joked, noting that the table had gone silent. Eli swallowed a large gulp of beer, choking slightly. It broke the sudden tension, but it didn't stop the subject.

"Hosea's right, Arthur. You seemed all a twitter, and I've heard nothing about the man since," Dutch said in his loud, scratchy voice. Eli sat in stunned silence, unsure if everyone at the table knew that he was the subject of the current conversation and they were all playing an elaborate joke on him, or if they truly didn't know.

"That's enough, Dutch. My employee doesn't need to know all my business," Arthur said in a voice low and dangerous. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were rigid.

"Alright, then, I can take a hint when you want to change the subject, but the pickings are pretty slim for fellas like us, Arthur,'' Dutch chuckled, taking a drink of his whiskey and glancing at Eli. "I hope that isn't why you hired poor Eli here." Eli nearly did a spit take at that, feeling his face go crimson.

"Well, it's alright, Arthur. We all find love in our own time," Hosea said, taking Dutch's hand and squeezing it to rein him in. "And he's right, we shouldn't be discussing Arthur's love life in front of an employee he just hired," he chuckled. "We all know one another's business eventually though, Eli. It's an unfortunate side effect of living in a small town. But tonight is all about you, anyway. You came here all the way from California, so, here, pick up your glasses, all of you."

Eli smiled, feeling, for just a moment, as though someone was glad to have him here. He had only been in Texas a week and a half and already he was intensely, profoundly lonely. As his glass tinked against Dutch's, Hosea's and Arthur's, he found himself almost misty-eyed.

"To you, Eli - Dr. Jensen. I hope you enjoy working with Arthur, and I hope you carve out a bit of happiness for yourself here in our little neck of the woods. We tell all of Arthur's employees, you are always welcome here," Hosea assured him and Dutch tacked on a "Hear, hear."

"This is so nice," Eli said, his throat a little thick. "You two are a lovely couple and you seem like wonderful parents. Thank you so much for having me. Arthur, the food was delicious, but I should probably head out," he said.

"Nonsense, stay a while longer, have some dessert. We usually take our dessert on the back patio," Hosea declared. Dutch snorted.

"You know you could try not to sound like a nineteenth century southern dandy now and again, old man," the bigger man commented, but he rested his hand easily around Hosea's waist, making it clear his comment was all in good fun.

"Oh, and if you're concerned about drinking and driving, we have a lovely guest room," Hosea offered. "Kieran and the others have spent many a night here after excess, or before a big operation."

"Thanks, but I have to work tomorrow," Eli said in a demure tone, not wanting to make Arthur any more uncomfortable than he already had. "But I'll certainly have some dessert."

Dessert, as it turned out, was pecan pie with vanilla ice cream. The four of them sat around chatting and Arthur eventually relaxed, his demeanor slumping into something more resembling gentle amusement than tight discomfort as Dutch and Hosea both grilled Eli for details about his life and career.

"Wait, wait, wait, so you really have everyone who works for you over like this?" Eli finally asked after a barrage of friendly questioning. Arthur smiled.

"It's a trial by fire," Hosea informed him with a little grin. "If _we_ can't scare off a new employee, then even the worst client won't scare you off either." Arthur laughed, holding out a hand to stop Hosea from teasing Eli further.

"I have every new employee over, yes. And we usually get the staff together about once a month and I feed y'all dinner and let Dutch and Hosea entertain somebody other than me with their antics," he commented, patting Hosea on the head as he passed to go get another beer.

"Here, I'll join you, I'd like to hear more about your brewing," Eli said quickly, wanting to get a word in private. Arthur didn't object, so he followed him to the garage where Arthur professionally poured both himself and Eli another beer. "Do they know?" Eli asked, feeling intensely awkward. "That I'm the guy you were apparently..." Arthur cut him off with a look as he finished pouring, slamming the glass down on the top of the kegerator hard enough to splash some of the beer out.

"Firstly, let me get one thing straight with you - I'm your boss, not your friend. Second, the man I slept with, he wasn't the man standin' in front of me now. The man I slept with was gentle. Honest. Somebody I really liked. But I don't know about you, Eli." Arthur huffed out a breath and Eli could tell that admitting that much was a hard blow to his pride. "You lied to me. And there's a lot I can't abide, but toward the top of the list is liars. Now. You take your beer, go back outside, talk to my dads and we'll wrap this mess up," he said gruffly.

"Alright, then," Eli said, his voice quiet. He finished his beer out on the porch and then switched to water as he let Dutch and Hosea carry the conversation.

"Well, I'm beat, I think I'm going to hit the hay. Feel free to stay as long as you like, Eli," Hosea told him. "It was lovely meeting you. I think you'll make a great partner for Arthur."

Eli knew Hosea meant 'partner in veterinary practice,' but it still sent a jolt of surprise through him. He swallowed and then bid Hosea good night, chuckling when Dutch followed after him, grabbing his shoulders and rumbling something in his husband's ear.

It was now just Eli and Arthur on the porch.

"I'll leave just as soon as I'm good to drive," Eli advised him. Arthur hummed, lit a cigarette.

"Want some coffee?" he offered.

"Sure." He returned a few minutes later with a mug for them both and handed the steaming cup to Eli. Eli took it and sipped at it. It was delicious. "I don't know what to say," Eli admitted, desperately wanting to make things right, especially after seeing how sweet Arthur's family was.

"Don't say nothin'," Arthur snapped. "You kin leave your mug on the railing there. I'll see you in the morning. Try not to be late." With that, he flung the rest of his coffee across the backyard and trudged to the barn without looking back, his broad shoulders stiff and his fists clenched at his sides.


	3. IHOP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to draw, Eli tries to run and they both end up encountering something they weren't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: description of injury to animal  
> CW: description of surgery

Arthur found himself sitting on a barstool at The Cut Throat Saloon, his beer warming and going flat in front of him.

"Hey amigo. Why the long face?"

"Javier, I've told you a dozen times before, askin' a horse doctor that question is not, nor will it ever be funny." Javier shrugged, continuing to polish the glass he was holding to a high shine.

"Have it your way, then. I'm just offering my ear as your favorite bartender."

"You're my only bartender, Javier. Bill doesn't know how to pour a beer or mix a drink to save his life," Arthur pointed out in a dry tone, finally taking a swig of his beer and grimacing at the temperature.

"Hmm, well until Sadie agrees to come back and work for me again, I'm shit out of luck for better bartenders."

"If you seriously think Sadie will stop teaching at UT to come tend bars for you, my friend, you've lost your damn mind."

"I know. A man can dream, though, right? What's she teaching over there now?"

"Somethin' in the psychology department. Her husband teaches ag. Been a while since I chatted with either of them," Arthur admitted, forcing himself to down the beer in a two big chugs. He hissed, slammed the glass down. "Nother, please."

"So I'll ask you again, Arthur. What woes are you drowning tonight?"

"Ain't drownin' any woes, dammit. Just...trying to relax."

"Uh huh. I saw you walk out after 'trying to relax' in the men's bathroom a few Fridays ago, my friend, and you've been uptight ever since. What happened with that? Did he hurt you? If he hurt you, I will make him _disappear,"_ Javier said in a low tone that seemed to convey that he both could and would do that for Arthur. Arthur waved a hand in a flippant motion.

"Naw, naw nothin' like that. It's...look it's nothing. It's fine." Arthur's cheeks were bright red with embarrassment.

"It doesn't seem like nothing, Arthur."

"Javier!"

"Alright, alright," the bartender finally said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "When's Charles due back in town?"

"This Thursday, thank Christ," Arthur mumbled.

"Tell him to come to karaoke night again. He was quite a crowd pleaser last time. I still owe him a pitcher from the applause contest."

"I'll let him know, Javier, now...please?" Arthur pointed at his journal and the pencil lying next to it on the bartop.

"Yeah, yeah," Javier griped, leaving Arthur be so he could write in his journal. He took a drink of his beer, his pencil sliding across the page. He had intended to draw the herd of Tennessee Walkers he had examined today at one of the local ranches, but instead his pencil picked out a wide jaw, large eyes, a delicately curving nose. Arthur scowled and flipped the page away from the rendition of Eli he had just drawn. He had to get him off his mind. He was a professional, dammit, he could have a working relationship with someone he had slept with. But god...his cock twitched at the thought of the warmth, the tightness. He remembered the clever jokes Eli had told when 'Eli' was still 'Mark.' He remembered the little coy smiles Eli had given him, remembered the eagerness as Eli squirmed beneath him, sighing and whining for more as Arthur buried himself inside of him. He bit a knuckle.

"Fuck," he muttered, slamming his journal closed and tucking it into the satchel he was wearing. Picking up his cell phone, he flipped it open and dialed Charles' number from memory.

"You have reached the voice mailbox of [Charles Smith]," said a robotic female's voice followed by Charles' flat-toned oration of his own name given with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "Please leave your message after the beep."

"Charles," Arthur spoke and he wiped his jaw and then leaned his forehead on his hand against the bar. "Gimme a call when you're back in town. Thought maybe we'd...brew some beer. I don't know. This is Arthur." He clapped the phone shut and returned it and his journal to his satchel before slamming the last of his beer and stepping to the door. "I'll see you on Friday, Javier, if not before."

"Have a good one, Arthur," Javier called after him. Arthur got into his Bronco and started it up, scowling when "Don't Stand So Close to Me" by The Police started playing on the radio. He switched it off and drove to the clinic to finish up some paperwork. Everyone had already gone home, so the practice was quiet. Only the gentle sound of the fish tank humming in the waiting room provided any sound or light. Arthur knew the way to his office well enough he didn't need light.

Reaching his desk, Arthur flipped his lamp on, letting out a yelp of surprise when he realized a redheaded man was sitting in the chair across from him.

"Arthur. We need to talk."

\------------

Eli warmed up a Mighty Man frozen dinner, pushing the food around on the plastic tray with a look of disgust before finally eating some of it. There was nothing on television and it was too late in the day to go anywhere, darkness having already fallen. He picked up his cell phone and loaded a dating app, feeling like a damn fool for doing so, but shit, he was lonely. He flipped through the possibilities (there weren't many), and then tossed his phone onto the coffee table he had fashioned out of an old wire spool.

Might as well go for a run, he thought. He pulled off his shirt and tugged on some running shorts and shoes, attaching reflectors and lights to his upper arms. Eli ran for a long, long while, enjoying the relative coolness of the night air and the sound of hundreds of frogs and crickets singing. If there was one thing to be said for Texas, it certainly had no shortage of wildlife. Headlights pulled up behind him and he waved them on, his heart beating a little faster, wondering why someone would stop.

"Need a ride, young man?" Hosea asked, slowing his vehicle to match Eli's pace. Eli stopped, a wide smile spreading over his features. It had been three weeks since the dinner and Eli was glad to see Hosea.

"Oh, I'm alright, Mr. Matthews. Just going for a run."

"Alright, but if you change your mind, you ought to have my number. Here, I'll put it in your phone." Eli patted himself down, realized he didn't have it.

"I'll be okay, really." Hosea sighed.

"Alright, son. Well, I've got to be getting on or Dutch will worry. Say, why don't you stop by the theater tomorrow? Come say hello and meet a few people from town?" Eli smiled.

"That would be really nice. I'll swing by after work."

"Don't let Arthur ride you too hard now, you hear?" Hosea advised, and then he winked. "Well, have a good night." Eli stood staring after Hosea's taillights for a very long time, a little slack jawed. Did Hosea know? He seemed to carry himself with an air of parental omniscience that made Eli wonder. Nevertheless, he continued his run, huffing in a big breath as his heart rate increased with his speed. He turned down a dark side road, marveling at the stars above him while also using the light of his flashlight to make sure he didn't end up in the ditch. In the bushes along the side of the road, Eli heard something stirring and he jumped to the side, thoroughly spooked.

"What the hell?" he mumbled, his eyes widening in an attempt to see better in the darkness. There was a low growl, and then a whimper. Eli fumbled again for his phone, remembered he didn't have it, and fled, his heart pounding wildly. By the time he made it home he was drenched in sweat, but he had also realized that it was far more likely that what he had heard was a dog in distress, not a monster in the dark. He found his phone, grabbed it and his keys and darted to his vehicle. Slowly he drove the route he had run until he found the thick bushes he'd heard the noises in. He put his jeep into park and whistled. "Here boy...or girl," he added lamely. There was another whimper. He found his flashlight and shined it into the foliage, eyes scanning for movement. Lying along the roadside was a golden-red shape, a dog, Eli confirmed. "Hey buddy, hey, it's okay," he comforted. The animal whined, struggled. Hit by a car, Eli realized. "Come on," he said softly in a soothing tone. "I've got ya." He pulled a towel from his Jeep and managed to get the animal onto it and then into his passenger's seat before heading for the clinic.

Unlocking the clinic door and pushing his way inside with the whining dog, Eli was surprised to stumble into Arthur and another man with scraggly red hair.

"Oh. Um, hi," he greeted, looking from Arthur to the other man. "Got an emergency, sorry." He pushed past and dropped the dog off onto an exam table.

"I told you I will talk to you about this later, Sean. Just...keep them off my back, will you?"

"I can't promise you anything Art'ur," the man said in a thick Irish accent and Eli wondered if he was one of the group Hosea had mentioned. Never mind, he had other things to deal with. The clinic door closed and Arthur stepped into the room.

Arthur felt his eyes betray him as they roamed over Eli's sleek body where he stood, shirtless and practically glistening from an evening run. He was in good shape. He stood perhaps five feet nine inches tall, but he carried himself with unmistakable confidence. His chest was well-defined and a line of soft golden hair ran from his sternum to the top of his running shorts, trailing the way to the thicker thatch of golden curls Arthur had seen before. He swallowed, his gaze taking in Eli's tattoos and the dark, jagged scar that Arthur had never had a chance to ask about as they lay naked beside one another a few weeks ago. He shook himself and forced his eyes to focus somewhere else.

"What happened here?"

"Not sure. Found her in the ditch off Old Mill Creek Road." Arthur pulled on a pair of gloves, as did Eli. The older vet felt the joint gently and the dog cried out in pain, whipping around to bite, but Eli caught her head, soothing her gently.

"Go ahead and give some torb," Arthur ordered and Eli obeyed, pulling up the dose and injecting it. "Looks like this happened a few days ago. Leg's already starting to smell. You know whose dog this is?" he asked.

"No idea. Found her in the dark while I was out on a run. No collar. Checked for a microchip already. Nothing."

"Hmm. Well, it's young. May not belong to anyone. Still, can't treat an animal without an owner unless you're willing to foot the bill," Arthur pointed out. Eli pet the dog's sleek red fur. It looked like some amalgamation of pit bull, golden retriever and collie. It was a beautiful animal, and to be so docile even after all that pain...

"I'll take her," Eli found himself saying. "Been wanting a companion. If no one claims her, I'll keep her."

"Shit, I'd really like to fix her while she's under. We've got enough of a stray problem out here," Arthur said, thinking of a case he had dealt with earlier in the day, a massive leg injury to a horse from a pack of wild dogs that had taken to roaming the area and attacking livestock.

"You'll get no argument here," Eli said easily, though he knew it would have to wait until he had confirmed the dog had no owner. The two of them worked side by side, Eli shaving the area above the front right leg while Arthur prepared surgical drapes and grabbed a pack of instruments. They worked quickly, first radiographing the animal and then removing the destroyed leg and patching up a few other scrapes and scratches from the dog's ordeal. Once finished, Eli picked her up and laid her in an observation bank, monitoring her breathing for a while. "I think she'll make it," he said, sitting down on the floor with an exhausted sigh. Arthur patted his shoulder and then walked across the room to toss the instruments in the sink.

"Good job, kid. What are you gonna name her?"

"Not sure. Was thinking maybe 'IHOP.'" Arthur turned slowly and stared at Eli. "Should I go with 'Denny' to be a bit more esoteric, you think?" Eli held Arthur's gaze, fighting hard not to laugh.

Arthur struggled to control his face, wanting to laugh, wanting to accept the silly humor that he liked so much about Eli. Instead, he clenched his jaw.

"It's your dog," he said, washing his hands and tossing his dirty surgical robe into the laundry.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" Eli asked after a moment. Arthur sucked in a breath.

"No one important, don't worry about it."

"Everything okay?" Eli asked, noticing a deepening line between Arthur's brows.

"Fine just...tired." Eli stood and approached Arthur from behind, putting a hand gently on Arthur's side, knowing it was wrong, knowing it was crossing a line, but unable to resist. Arthur leaned into the touch, turning in his grasp and then tilting his head down so that their foreheads rested together, so that they were breathing the same air, Arthur's breath smelling a little of stale beer and Eli's of Gatorade and mint gum. Eli slid his hand up and touched Arthur's cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. As though glass had shattered, Arthur lurched back.

"Don't. Don't do that," he said, but his tone wasn't gruff, it was pleading.

"Arthur, please," Eli said helplessly, not knowing exactly what he wanted, but knowing that he wanted this silent antagonism toward him to end, and wondering...wondering if things had gone differently, if things might have worked.

"I'll see you in the morning. Make sure you lock up before you leave."

And with that, Arthur was gone.


	4. If I Only Had a Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli deals with his first difficult client and stops by the theater after work only to find himself wrangled into being part of a musical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE FOLLOWING CONTENT WARNINGS. Parts of this chapter may be triggering. This chapter is, overall, a happy one, but Eli has a bit of a dark background and parts of it get mentioned this chapter.
> 
> CW: modern homophobia  
> CW: use of homophobic slurs  
> CW: flashback of physical assault  
> CW: flashback of nonconsensual groping  
> CW: brief description of an attack
> 
> To avoid descriptions of Eli's assault when he was younger, skip the paragraphs between **

"And then he just walked off," Eli finished explaining. There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Well? Say something."

"I don't know what to say, Eli. It sounds like you really hurt him. I mean, it seems like he's still interested, but you can't blame him for not wanting to pursue anything. He's your boss." Eli scowled and held his thumb and forefingers to his forehead.

"Nicole, what the hell am I gonna do? I thought it was just going to be a one-night stand, but now that I know him I really, really like him. How do I fix this?"

"I don't know if you can. Honestly, just give him some more time. I know I'd be pretty annoyed if someone gave me a fake name and then never called me, only to show up to work with me," she laughed gently. "I mean, even if it did work out, do you really want to stay in Texas? Do you want to marry him eventually if it does work out? Are you prepared to deal with his family and the fallout if it _doesn't?_ I don't have good advice for you here, Eli. You have to figure out what you want, boo."

"I know, but thanks for listening, at least," he said, giving a defeated sigh.

"In the meantime, go to Hosea's theater. You used to love doing drama when we were in high school!"

"Ugh, I did, didn't I? You know, you'd think that would have tipped my parents off before I came out of the closet."

"Have you tried calling them lately?" Nicole asked. Eli clenched his jaw.

"When I graduated."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is! I'm your mom friend and I say so."

"You are not the mom friend. You're the weird friend."

"I can be both," Nicole laughed.

"I miss you," Eli admitted.

"Which is exactly why you should go to the theater. Go make some new friends. Just don't forget about me."

"As though that's possible," Eli laughed. "Well, lunch break's over. I gotta go."

"Call me tonight after."

"Will do!" Eli promised cheerily, pretending to be more excited than he actually was. Forcing on a happy face, he stepped out of the small, closet-like office that seemed to have been haphazardly tacked onto the laundry room at the far back corner of the clinic building. He nearly collided with Lenny, who was carrying an armful of surgical packs.

"Here, Lenny, let me get the door for you."

"Thanks, Dr. Jensen."

"Eli, please, Lenny," Eli begged for at least the thirtieth time.

"It's a habit," Lenny said sheepishly, stacking the packs into the autoclave.

"I'm thinking to head over to the Beckers later today to deworm their goats before that bloat surgery I'm helping Arthur with. Want to tag along?"

"Sure. Heading over in your jeep?"

"Yep. Meet you out there in..." Eli glanced at his watch, "say ten minutes?"

"Sure." Lenny gave him a small smile which Eli returned. Lenny was young, barely out of high school but he was smart and eager. He wanted to be a veterinarian as well but wanted to save up some money before he started college. In the meantime he had grilled Eli for information about getting into vet school and keeping his grades up until he did so. Eli remembered being that young and eager and wished he still had the energy. Even at only twenty-eight, he couldn't pull an all-nighter the way he used to. He had stayed at the clinic all night, monitoring his new dog and the loss of sleep was catching up with him now. Had he not once again overstepped Arthur's boundaries last night and needed to talk to Nicole, he might have just taken a nap on his lunch break. He gave a massive yawn and grabbed a bottle of dewormer from the pharmacy.

"You are logging all of that, aren't you, Dr. Jensen?" Ms. Grimshaw asked, her brow arched critically.

"When have I not?" Eli asked sweetly. She swatted at him with the files in her hand.

"I still haven't gotten your signature on those scripts I need to send in."

"Oh shit, hang on, I'll do them now," he promised, taking the bundle of papers she jabbed him with.

"Thank you!" she said in a sassy tone. "How's your dog doing?"

"So far so good last I checked on her."

"Sure is pretty. No owner?"

"Not yet. We'll see," Eli said in a neutral tone, trying and failing not to get attached. Now that he had decided on keeping her, he really hoped no one came forward. He desperately wanted to go back and pet her, but he had just checked on her right before his lunch break. Instead, he headed out to his jeep, surprised to find Arthur there rather than Lenny. "Arthur," Eli said in a neutral tone. The man had been in a truly nasty mood all day, having growled a reticent,

"Mornin'" to Eli when he came into the clinic and woke him up by kicking him on the sole of his foot.

"The Beckers ain't exactly the most tolerant folk, Eli," Arthur said simply, taking a drag from the cigarette he was smoking. Eli shrugged.

"It's not like they know I'm gay," he responded, a little testily. Arthur met his eyes intently.

"Everett Becker was the man you and I run into comin' out of the bathroom at the Cut Throat." Eli's face drained of blood.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Look, I ain't gonna stop you from goin' out there, but it might be better if I went instead." Eli scoffed.

"You're just as gay as I am." Arthur's lip curled, but he at least laughed at that.

"That ain't how he sees it. He knew me as a vet before he knew me as a queer." Eli's face twitched at the word, his fists involuntarily clenching. "I carved out a name for myself in the industry before anyone knew I was gay. Comin' out of the closet was my choice, but it ain't made life easier in some cases. The point is, Everett will still do business with me because he knows I'm a good vet and he's been comin' to me for nearly ten years now. But I don't know how he'll treat you, and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt."

"I can stand slurs being thrown at me, Doc," Eli responded, rolling his eyes and thinking of the names his parents had called him when he had come out, remembering the horror on their faces, the hatred. Being branded a freak was hardly a new experience for him.

"I ain't just talkin' slurs, son," Arthur said seriously. "Folk around here are generally pretty nice, pretty tolerant. But you go out onto three hundred acres of land with a bigot and a false sense of security and it's possible for _accidents_ to happen," he pointed out, emphasizing the word and looking away from Eli with a scowl. It was clear he was disgusted to have to admit to this reality.

"Jesus, why the hell do you do business with him, then?" Eli asked. Arthur ground his cigarette butt to lifelessness under his boot heel and met Eli's eyes seriously.

"Sometimes you've gotta work with people you don't agree with because that's how it has to be. At the end of the day, this is a business, and them animals need care regardless of Everett's personal opinions. What he or I think of one another is irrelevant. We don't talk God, we don't talk politics and we sure as shit don't talk sex. We talk about football and I ignore the fact that he calls me a 'faggot' behind my back so long as his check still cashes at the bank. So. I'd really prefer it if I went out there instead of you." Eli thought for a long moment and then looked up at Arthur.

"No. No, if I'm going to work for you, work with you, then I need to deal with _all_ your clients. Even the shitty ones." Arthur scowled, resting his hands on his waistband, his thumbs tucked into the belt loops.

"You ever met anyone you didn't feel like causin' trouble with, boah?" Arthur asked, some combination of amusement and irritation on his face. Eli arched a brow.

"I met a UFC wrestler once. Didn't start shit with him." Arthur barked a laugh, stifled it.

"Shhhiiit." He huffed a breath and then looked hard at Eli. "Alright. But you keep your cell on you. And you take Mary Beth, not Lenny."

"Seriously?" Eli asked. Arthur chuckled.

"She's got concealed carry. I have no idea where she keeps that little gun of hers, but she's always got it on her. Plus, Everett will be too busy flirtin' with her and makin' a damn fool of himself to bother you. Just...be careful, alright?" Eli nodded and was pleasantly surprised when Arthur patted him easily on the shoulder. "Yer...yer doin' a real fine job so far, Eli. Keep up the good work. And you let me know when you get back so I don't worry about you."

Eli forced himself to swallow the warm lump that had formed in his throat at that comment.

"Will do, Doc."

\--------

The drive to the Beckers was made in relative silence. Despite his bravado with Arthur, Eli found that he was actually very nervous.

**His hand passed over his side where a dark scar marred his skin beneath his scrub top and swallowed. It had been one asshole in high school, just one, some homophobic idiot who was actually so far in the closet he reeked of mothballs. He had attacked Eli in the bathrooms his junior year, kicking him in the ribs so hard he broke one and rammed its end into Eli's lung. The dark scar was from the drainage port for the catheter that was placed so that his lung could heal.

Unwilling to admit to his parents or to anyone else why the other boy had attacked him, Eli had suffered in silence, having to continue to go to class with his attacker after the incident had been chalked up to "boys being boys." His attacker had sported a black eye, so the school administration figured it was a fair fight and suspended them both. No one knew Eli had given his attacker that black eye when he had groped him, murmuring slurs in his ear. **

Eli shuddered, pushing the unpleasant memory away and trying to reassure himself that nothing like that was going to happen today. Everett Becker was a client and plenty of people knew Eli was going out to his place. He had his cell on him and he was a grown-ass man. Mary Beth was with him and was, apparently, armed. He had nothing to worry about, Eli told himself, but he felt his usual anxiety ramping up.

"You okay, Dr. Jensen?" Mary Beth asked softly, her aqua eyes earnest and concerned.

"Fine. I'm fine, Mary Beth." He glanced over at her, unsure if he should mention that he had run into Everett before, unsure if Mary Beth should know why the man would have a problem with him. As usual, he decided not to mention it. Mentioning things like that usually just led to more problems later, he concluded. Mary Beth seemed to pick up on his mood, however, and she gave him a winning smile.

"Mr. Becker isn't so bad once you get to know him. We'll be in and out in an hour or so. He usually helps with the goats."

"Good," Eli said, and he realized his voice was shaking. He drove his jeep down a bumpy, pothole-filled driveway and veered left when Mary Beth indicated he should do so. The trail took him to a simple corrugated metal shed and a fence full of about a hundred Boer goats, all bleating and nibbling at the grass and ramming one another, tails and ears twitching. Stepping out of his jeep, Eli grabbed his toolbox and the dewormer in his left hand, leaving his right hand free. "Mr. Becker?" he asked, approaching a dumpy-looking brown-haired man who looked like he had probably been a linebacker in college and then let himself go to pot. Arthur was right, Eli recognized him from that night at the bar, remembering his shocked expression. The man extended his hand, meeting Eli's eyes fiercely as he shook it.

"Doc too good to come out on his own?" the man groused. Eli forced a laugh.

"I offered. I'm trying to meet all his clients since I'm going to be working for him. I'm Dr. Jensen." Everett frowned.

"Everett Becker," he finally confirmed. He squinted at Eli as though trying to place where he had seen him before. Seeming unable to, he shrugged and then indicated the goat pen. "I know you crooks charge me by the hour, so let's get to it."

"You got it," Eli agreed, sighing with relief once Everett had turned away.

Everett Becker was a gruff, rude man, but he lightened up when he saw Mary Beth approaching to help. He spent the entire time they were deworming the goats chatting with her, and she tolerated him, giggling at his stupid jokes and keeping him preoccupied while Eli did his best to get done quickly.

When at last the goats were all dewormed, Eli found himself none the worse for the wear, aside from bruised legs from where a few of the goats had rammed him with the tops of their heads.

"Good doing business with you, Mr. Becker," he said, shaking the man's hand and accepting the wilted check the man had written for payment.

"Yeah, yeah. Bunch of fuckin' crooks." Everett stared at him for a long moment. "I could swear I know you from somewhere," he said and Eli's blood ran cold. "Eh, whatever. You tell Doc he don't need to bother comin' out from now on. You're faster than he is." With that, he gave a short, unfriendly wave and trudged back toward his house. Feeling relief, Eli clambered into his jeep, and drove back down the driveway as fast as he reasonably could. At the intersection of the driveway with the road, he checked his phone. One message.

Arthur Morgan: "You alright?"

Eli tapped out a response.

"Fine. Didn't remember me. Grouchy old bastard."

Arthur Morgan: "Good. Get your ass back here ASAP there's more work to do."

Eli chuckled lightly and set his phone down, turning on his blinker and pulling onto the bumpy gravel road back toward the clinic.

"So, Mary Beth, how'd you end up working for Arthur?"

"Oh, I lived in the area before he built the clinic. I wanted to work with animals, and I needed a job to help my grandma out, so I applied when he opened the hospital. I didn't really have much experience, but I needed a job. He was real sweet and told me he'd work my schedule around taking care of grandma, and he even paid for me to take some tech courses out at the junior college." She bit the side of her lower lip wistfully. "I really love workin' for Dr. Morgan. He's a good man." She glanced over at Eli, who was trying very hard not to smirk. It was clear that despite the fact that Mary Beth had a boyfriend, she had an obvious crush on Arthur. Well, who could blame her? "I know you moved all the way from California to work here. Must have been hard," she commented. Eli nodded, gritting his teeth for a moment.

"It has been," he admitted. "I'm bad at making friends. My one really good friend, she still works in California. I call her, but...it's not the same."

"Well, I'm your friend, Dr. Jensen," Mary Beth assured him. "If you ever need an ear or anything, you just let me know." Eli swallowed hard, glancing over at her with a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Mary Beth," he said softly.

"We're a family at the clinic. We all try to support each other. If you ever want to join us, we go out for drinks sometimes, and Doc's always at the Cut Throat on Fridays for karaoke. Ooh, we should all go watch him sing this Friday!" Mary Beth declared, delighted with her own idea. Eli's stomach sank. That was probably the last thing Arthur would want. Eli invading his evening, forcing his company on him.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Mary Beth," he started.

"Nonsense, it'll be fuuuun," she taunted, drawing out the word 'fun'. "I'll buy the first round," she declared, upping the ante. Eli chuckled softly.

"Oh, alright," he agreed.

"Good. What song will you be singing?"

"What?!" he asked, laughing.

"Everybody's gotta sing a song, Dr. Jensen. Come on!"

"Oh, hell, I don't know. I'm not a very good singer."

"It's karaoke, it doesn't matter," she laughed.

"You have a point there," Eli chuckled. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

_Think about how the hell I'm going to back out of it,_ he thought, pulling into the clinic parking lot.

"Kieran, guess what? Dr. Jensen's gonna be coming to karaoke night with us this week!" Mary Beth declared as soon as she was past the threshold.

"Damn it," Eli muttered under his breath.

"What, really? Well, hell, that oughta be entertainin'!" Kieran answered, giving Eli a shy smile and blushing when Mary Beth jostled him. Arthur stalked into the front lobby.

"The hell's all the racket up here?" he griped, but it was clear he wasn't actually angry.

"Dr. J-Jensen here's gonna come with us to karaoke night," Kieran told Arthur. Arthur looked to Eli, who took a step back and sunk his hands into his pockets nervously.

"U-unless you need someone available for emergency calls that night," he backpedaled. "I don't have to go."

"Nah, it's fine," Arthur declared, but his expression, for a brief instant, looked pained. He forced on a smile. "You'll just have to bear with my caterwauling." Eli was about to argue that his voice was great, but then realized that would not be the thing to say. No one here knew he had been to karaoke night before. Instead, he smiled.

"Well, great. Sounds like a plan."

\------------

"Me me me me me me me me me!" sang a young man dressed in a brightly-colored costume.

"Yes, good, but you're a little flat there, Winston," Hosea advised from where he sat in the plush chairs of the small theater.

"I am not a pheasant plucker, I’m a pheasant plucker’s son but I’ll be plucking pheasants when the pleasant phucker’s gone GODDAMN IT pheas-ant plllluc-ker.!"

"Easy now, Callie, don't strain something," Hosea chuckled.

Eli approached Hosea, his hands in his pockets, feeling a little nervous.

"Hey Mr. Matthews," he greeted. Hosea glanced at him.

"Hosea, please," he said simply. "Are you sure you don't have a hay allergy, Samuel?" he asked an actor dressed as the scarecrow, who was scratching at his red arms.

"I can take a Benadryl," Samuel said in a scratchy voice.

"If you only _did_ have a brain," Hosea muttered under his breath and Eli had to disguise a guffaw as a cough. "So, Eli, how are you?" Hosea finally greeted him directly, waving him over. "Arthur tells me you found a dog last night on your run and saved it."

"Arthur talks about me?" Eli blurted, feeling like a jackass as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Hosea chuckled.

"Arthur tells me just about everything. What he doesn't tell me goes in that journal of his. He seems pretty pleased with you so far, Eli. He mentioned to me that you listed 'drama club' as an extracurricular activity on your resume." Hosea gave him a searching look, leaning in toward him slightly, and Eli knew what was coming.

"Ugh, I really should have updated that before I submitted it. It was in high school and just one semester in college..."

"Hmm. Nonetheless, I could use someone for the Tinman," Hosea said. "Might give you an opportunity to meet a few people. There are some nice young men in the group," he said, his voice friendly and just a bit suggestive. Eli huffed a small laugh.

"It's been a good while since I did any stage work, Hosea. I mostly did the tech stuff."

"Oh, come on now, give it a try," Hosea chided him. "You might end up liking it. Everyone needs a hobby. And you'd be doing me quite the favor." Eli sighed.

"I guess I could stand in for a bit, if you want. Until you find someone to actually fill the part," he added, blushing at the thought of being on stage again in front of an actual audience.

"Good! Will you run lines with us?" he asked, brown eyes pleading.

"Oh, alright," Eli finally agreed, finding he didn't want to disappoint Hosea. An hour or so later and he was running through a scene with the itchy, sneezy Samuel the Scarecrow, Callie as Dorothy and an absentee Cowardly Lion, who was filled in by Hosea. The music was queued for his song and Hosea's eyes begged for him to sing. With a small, embarrassed smile, Eli obliged him.

Eli had just gotten to the line, _"I'd be tender, I'd be gentle and awful sentimental regarding love and art,"_ when the door of the theater opened with a loud bang.

"Shit," muttered Arthur. He had a sack full of fast food bags dangling from one arm. "Sorry folks, don't stop on account of...me," he finished, meeting Eli's eyes. There was a long pause and the technician backed the song up to the place where Eli had stopped.

Eli sang softly, avoiding Arthur's gaze.

_"I'd be friends with the sparrows and the boy that shoots the arrow if I only had a heart,"_ he continued, forcing himself to slow, not to sing too fast or too loudly, though his heart was suddenly thundering in his chest. He made his way through the rest of the song in his gentle baritone and when the song ended, there was silence in the theater.

"That was very good, Eli," Hosea said genuinely. "I'll understand if you don't want to, but, I would love it if you played the part for real. The show is in a month."

"I'll think about it," Eli promised.

"Good. Now then! I've recruited Arthur to bring us all some food, so dig in, all of you!" Hosea declared, and chaos ensued as hungry actors swarmed Arthur. "Take it out to the lobby, you savages," Hosea chided. Eli approached last, accepting a bag that contained a box of chicken tenders and fries. Arthur smiled as he handed him the bag.

"You got a real nice voice, Eli. Hope you sing on Friday." Eli, a bit taken aback at the friendliness, nodded.

"Sure, of course. You sure you don't mind me being there?"

"Nah, I don't mind. Glad to see you fitting in. It's important to participate in the community. Small town like this, it's important to them to see us out and about. Brings in business and establishes good client relationships. I'll see you in the morning, Eli."

"See you, Doc." Arthur turned back to him, smiled slightly.

"Arthur. Just call me Arthur."

"Arthur," Eli breathed. "Have a good night."

"You too."


	5. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli goes to karaoke night and grows jealous when one of Arthur's old friends returns to town.

Friday evening seemed to take both an eternity and the blink of an eye to arrive. Eli had been both anticipating and dreading it for the past several days. This time, knowing what the general dress code for the bar was, he wore a green plaid shirt and Levis, as well as a pair of western-style work boots. He added a Bass Pro Shop cap he had accumulated from somewhere and the look was complete once he styled his messy red-gold hair. He stared into his hazel green eyes in the mirror and carefully shaved his jaw, wincing when he managed to nick his chin. Sticking a corner of toilet paper to the cut, he grabbed his keys and headed to the bar, intending to remove the toilet paper before he went inside. When he spotted Arthur leaning against the building smoking a cigarette, dressed in a white collared shirt and a close-fitting red fleece vest and jeans that accentuated the muscles of his ass and thighs, the paper was entirely forgotten.

"Hey Arthur," Eli greeted with a shy smile. Arthur turned to him, grinned.

"You missed something," he advised and he reached out and plucked the paper from Eli's chin.

"Shit," Eli muttered, blushing, his skin feeling too warm where Arthur's fingers had touched him. He didn't know what else to say, but was relieved to find he didn't have to say anything as Kieran, Mary Beth and Lenny walked up. "Aren't you too young to drink?" he asked Lenny. The young man scowled.

"Yes," he griped. "But I'm here for the karaoke anyway."

"Well, come on, let's go inside before we get eaten alive by skeeters," Ms. Grimshaw commanded, and they all obeyed. Drinks were bought and dispersed (Lenny drank soda, but he didn't look pleased about it), and the group found a table to sit at and flipped through the binder full of songs. Various folks approached the table, greeting Arthur and offering to send him drinks later.

"You're really well-liked around here," Eli pointed out. Arthur shrugged.

"I do good work and I try not to be too much of a jackass." Eli didn't have a good response for that, so he just took a drink of his beer. He excused himself a few minutes later to go to the restroom. His ears turned scarlet when he looked at the counter, a counter that, just a month or so before, he had been gripping for dear life while Arthur fucked him hard from behind. He cleared his throat and arranged his hair again before shoving his cap back on and returning to the table.

"Clear your mind?" Lenny teased.

"Hush, kid," Eli retorted, grinning and making every effort not to look at Arthur.

In the end, Arthur settled on Johnny Cash's "Boy Named Sue" and treated the crowded bar to a hilarious, talented rendition of the song. Kieran chose to sing "Build Me Up Buttercup" and Eli had to recover from his second-hand embarrassment from watching Kieran pitifully glance to Mary Beth constantly while singing. They all knew he had a crush on her, but had never acted on it. She hadn't brought her boyfriend along with her tonight, but it was still an uncomfortable moment for them all as they watched and applauded him half-heartedly when he was done. It was approaching Eli's turn and he still hadn't decided.

Knowing he needed to keep the tone lighthearted, Eli had bounced back and forth between "Under Pressure" and "Friends in Low Places." When he approached Javier to let him know what he had decided, he smirked and chose something wildly different.

Climbing onstage and thanking the alcohol in his system for soothing his nerves, Eli brought the mic close to his lips and looked at his audience from hooded eyes.

 _"Twenty-five years and my life is still trying to get up that great big hill of hope for a destination..."_ Eli heard a guffaw - Arthur's and he grinned. "What's Up" was one of Eli’s favorite songs. He applied a goofy lilt to his voice as he sang _"and I try! Oh my GOD do I TRY!"_ and the audience lost it, applauding and laughing as Eli treated them to a show. When he finally finished and handed the mic off, his friends patted him on the back, gushing over his hilarious choice of song.

"That was damn good, Eli," Arthur laughed, knocking back another beer before choosing another song. "You're going up with me next song, boah," he informed him, his cheeks red, his eyes bright with drink. Too buzzed at this point to object, Eli nodded.

"Okay, I guess?" Several singers took their turns and at last it was time for Eli to join Arthur. He had chosen "Beer for My Horses" and Eli found himself enjoying the performance greatly, enjoying the eyes of the audience on him, enjoying that soft, gentle way Arthur kept glancing at him, a little wistful. What if he could just tell him? Eli wondered. What if he could finally explain himself, now that he was buzzed, now that admitting his anxiety wouldn't feel so much like an excuse...?

They finished the song and Eli reached for Arthur's hand to slow him, to prevent him from making it all the way to the table, wanting to take him outside and explain why he had done what he had done and tell him…tell him what? Regardless, Arthur didn't notice.

"Charles!" he boomed as a huge man with skin the silky brown color of a sparrow's back walked in. His long black hair was arranged into a complicated mound atop his head and the rest of it trailed over his shoulder attractively. He wore a blue shirt with white dotted patterning and black field pants with hiking boots. Everything about him screamed 'cool' and Eli stared as Arthur allowed himself to be pulled into a massive hug. "Didn't know if you'd come."

"Always," Charles answered simply, as though it was a simple universal truth that he would be wherever Arthur asked him to be. Eli's heart sank. There was history here. Chemistry. The group of friends at the table greeted Charles with wild enthusiasm. As Eli joined them, Arthur introduced his friend.

"Eli, this is Charles Smith. Charles, this is Eli Jensen, my new resident vet. Charles here's a wildlife biologist. He's gone half the year out into the middle of nowhere, but we love it when he's here," Arthur explained with genuine affection. Eli extended his hand and Charles took it in a massive hand that dwarfed Eli’s own, smiling.

"Nice to meet you," he said in a soft voice, friendly, but reserved.

"And you," Eli replied, but his heart sank further when Charles sat next to Arthur and draped his arm casually over Arthur's shoulders.

"How've you been?" Arthur asked and Charles tipped his head to the side.

"Not too bad. Managed to get funding for next year's project already. Got some good data."

"Good to hear," Arthur said, his tone sincere. "You gonna pick a song?"

"I just got here," Charles griped. "Buy me a drink first?"

"You got it," Arthur said easily and he made his way to the bar.

"So. You and Arthur known each other for a while?" Eli asked, unable to rein in his curiosity.

"We met at A&M as undergrads," Charles answered, and Eli noticed the big gold ring on his right hand that matched the one that Arthur wore.

"Fellow Aggies, huh?" Eli said, for lack of anything better to say.

"Yep. Been friends for about fifteen years," Charles answered.

"So, wildlife biologist, how's that?" Eli asked, feeling as though he was simultaneously being too nosy, and also being terrible at maintaining the conversation, but he was desperate to know who Charles was to Arthur, found himself intensely jealous of this muscular, handsome man who carried himself with the kind of confidence Eli could only dream of. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur chose that moment to return, handing Charles a shot of whiskey and holding one as well.

"Let's relive our college days for a bit, Charles," he hollered over the din of the bar, holding his right hand out until Charles fist-bumped him, their class rings clinking together. He and Charles knocked back the shots and hissed at the burn. Feeling suddenly intensely nauseated, Eli excused himself.

"It's getting late, guys," he said apologetically. "I'm going to swing by the clinic to pick up the dog and then I'm headed home. I had a good time, though," he assured them, though Mary Beth and Lenny protested his leaving. Eli looked back over his shoulder at Arthur, seeing if he would wish him good night. His eyes were glued to Charles, who was telling a story in a low tone, his lips close to Arthur's ear.

Eli stepped outside and shook himself, knowing he wasn't good to drive yet. He sat on the curb, considering his fingers. Was Charles Arthur's boyfriend? Was he an ex? Just a friend? Eli desperately wanted to know, but he knew it was none of his business. He sat out in the humid air, drinking from his water bottle, which he had left in his jeep. He had been outside for about thirty minutes, ignoring the odd looks from people entering and exiting the bar when the door opened again and someone said his name. Arthur stared down at him, frowning.

"You alright?"

"Fine," Eli answered, drinking the rest of his water. "Just wanted to make sure I was sober before driving."

"Y'know you can come back inside and drink water at the table," Arthur offered, lighting a cigarette. "We ain't gonna pressure you to keep drinkin'."

"I'm...just not feeling very social right now, Arthur. Go on in and hang out with your friend, I'm fine." Arthur sat down next to him, offered a drag. Eli, forever weak for Arthur, accepted it solely so that he could press his lips to the place where Arthur's had been. He took a short drag, handed it back with a small cough, Arthur's fingertips dragging over the backs of his knuckles.

"You shoa yer alright?" Arthur asked again. Eli turned away from him and scowled.

"Fine. Tired. Have a good night, Arthur. I'll see you in the morning."

"Well, alright. Text me when you get home so I know you got there safe." Eli grunted in response, standing and pulling his keys from his pocket, not bothering to look back where Arthur was staring wistfully after him. Eli stopped by the clinic, picked up the dog, who wagged her tail and happily let him load her into his jeep and drove home, tired and frustrated.

Saturday morning dawned and Eli checked his phone after turning off his alarm.

11:30 pm **Susan Grimshaw:** Dont forget to finish this weeks clinic notes when you go in tomorrow

6:07 am **Mary Beth:** Last night was so fun! :D Sorry you couldn't stay longer! :(

6:30 am **Arthur Morgan:** Eli, I'm taking the day off to be with Charles. You're in charge.

Eli's stomach flipflopped. "Be with Charles." The words stuck out at him like a taunt and he buried his face in his hands, feeling as though the tables had surely turned. Just a few weeks ago Arthur was much more interested in him that Eli had been. Eli hadn't thought much about their encounter that weekend, but now Arthur was all Eli could think about. His eyes. His hair. That gorgeous, unique nose that made him look singularly aquiline. His soft pink lips. His gentle voice and kindness toward people and animals alike. His concern for Eli's safety and pride in his work. Eli let loose a low growl of irritation at himself. Today was a new day. He was in charge.

Determined to prove that he had what it took to make a good resident vet, Eli ran the clinic smoothly, greeting clients, diagnosing illness and prescribing medication, taking charge as Arthur's message had said. But all the while the rest of the message played over and over again in the back of his mind.

"I'm taking the day off to be with Charles."

\--------

“So you’re telling me,” Charles began, his brows wrinkled, “that you fucked your employee in the bathroom of the Cut Throat? And you then, not done, brought him home and fucked him again? Who the hell are you and what have you done with Arthur?” he joked, slamming the ax home in the firewood he was helping Arthur cut.

“I – look, I didn’t know he was my employee at the time. And that’s the damn problem. He lied to me, Charles. Gave his middle name. So I don’t know if he knew who I was and was being a manipulative little shit, or if he’s just a liar.” Charles hummed, wiping his brow.

“What if he had a good reason for hiding his name?”

“He don’t got a good reason for hidin’ his name, don’t nobody got a good reason for hidin’ their name. What, somebody decides they don’t like me so I’m gonna start going by some elaborate nickname like ‘Tacitus Kilgore’ or some nonsense? It’s ridiculous.”

“You seem awfully defensive about it,” Charles pointed out, stacking the cut logs. Arthur huffed a sigh.

“It’s cuz I liked him,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“I said I liked him, dammit. Haven’t liked somebody like that since…”

“Since Albert?” Charles asked, tone neutral. Arthur held his eyes tightly shut.

“We don’t need to talk about Albert again. He and I wanted diff’rent things, that’s all.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You don’t know what it’s like Charles, with your…bein’ ace or whatever people are calling it now.” Charles snorted.

“Thanks for flippantly erasing my identity, Arthur, I appreciate that.”

“You know that ain’t how I meant it.”

“Isn’t it?” Charles snapped. “I understand you’ve got feelings for this guy, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a dick to me.” Arthur sighed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Well, asexual or not, I think I can give you some advice.” Charles’ axe thumped into yet another log, flicking bark to the side. He was quiet for a moment, slammed the axe home again and then looked up at Arthur, who was waiting expectantly. “Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“Ugh, I ain’t gonna talk to another man about my feelings, Charles it’s too…”

“Gay?” Charles offered helpfully, smirking.

“Fuck you,” Arthur retorted, but he grinned. “Look, the man’s my employee anyway. It would be unprofessional to try to start anything with him.”

“It’s your practice. Your love life,” Charles shrugged. Arthur scowled.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” he admitted.

“What’s so great about him? Why did you, a man who never has one night stands, have sex with this guy in the bathroom and then bring him home?” Arthur reddened.

“I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Charles said forcefully. “You do. There is always a reason for the things you do, Arthur.”

“There was…it was…” Arthur looked at Charles helplessly. “It was something in his soul, Charles. I looked in his eyes and he’s sweet. Smart. Damaged.”

“And that’s an attractive quality?”

“Don’t start,” Arthur said dryly.

“So what are you going to do?” Charles asked, handing Arthur the axe and grabbing his water bottle.

“Nothing,” Arthur answered. “Except give him time to settle in. To…find someone else if he wants. See how things go. I don't know.”

“Arthur, I say this with all love and respect, but you are the dumbest smart person I have ever met.”

“Shut up,” Arthur said miserably.

“Fine. Give it time. But don’t be surprised if you lose him.” Arthur sighed deeply, slicking a hand back through sweat-soaked blonde-brown hair.

"I've got other things on my mind in the meantime, Charles," Arthur ground out.

"Sean again?"

"Yeah. Little bastard's still fronting for Strauss."

"You're a good man, Arthur. Doesn't mean you're always a smart man, but I don't like to beat a dead horse," Charles commented with a humorless chuckle. "I still don't understand why you did what you did for John." Arthur clenched his jaw hard.

"He's my brother, Charles."

"I know. But you know that Hosea could have made all of that go away."

"It was a matter of pride. He was going to lose his house. His business. You don't think Abigail would have left him over that? Taken Jack with her?" Charles scowled.

"You're a good man, Arthur, but I worry about you." Arthur laughed outright at that.

"I worry about me too."


	6. Deep Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Arthur and Eli find themselves in deep shit.

Eli stared at his phone screen.

“Eli, I’m taking the day off to be with Charles. You’re in charge.” He had received the text nearly three weeks before and he knew that he needed to get over it, but it still nettled him. He kept scrolling up past text messages that read “Stepping out for a bit. If Mr. Winfeld comes in, he just needs some bute for his horse. Should already be in the system.” and “Stopping by Pearson’s restaurant. Want anything? I’m buying.” and “Be right there.” Variations on small interactions that meant nothing. The past three weeks had, for Eli, been a series of actions in which he felt he wasn’t quite present. He did a good job, chatting with clients, caring for the animals, taking his new dog for walks.

But Eli didn’t feel himself.

At night, he absently bingewatched Netflix, his eyes unfocused. He worked out, mostly because it was a habit, not because he wanted to, and he went to bed. He would swallow his anxiety medication, most often rinsing it down his throat with beer, despite the fact he knew better. Then he repeated the day. Again and again, with the only break in monotony the rehearsals for The Wizard of Oz. Aside from caring for his dog, it was the one thing he really enjoyed and he found himself throwing his heart into it, happy when some of the cast members began inviting him to hang out. For the most part, they were older than he was, or much younger, but Samuel and Callie were fun. He got dinner with them a few times and tried hard not to think about whatever was between Arthur and Charles.

Eli ran into them getting dinner together once at the local country cafe and felt his blood pressure spike when Arthur called him over after noticing him.

"Eli, I was just telling Charles about your tripod dog. What was it you named her?"

"Spud," Eli answered.

"Huh, Spud. Think I would have named her something a little more um...” Arthur chuckled and cleared his throat sheepishly. “Anyway, Charles used to have a three-legged dog too."

"Best dog I ever had," Charles advised.

"Spud's a good one," Eli said truthfully, but he picked at the end of his shirt sleeve, wanting desperately to be anywhere else. Arthur seemed to sense his nervous energy.

"We won't keep you, Eli. I know you're probably nervous about your performance coming up."

"I think we're ready. Are you coming?" Eli felt himself get hopeful and squashed the feeling.

"Shoa," Arthur said. "Bought tickets so Charles and I could both come." Eli forced a smile onto his face, knowing it probably looked more like he had swallowed a particularly foul-tasting bite of something rather than a smile. So his performance would be their date night, he thought. Great.

"Well, thanks for supporting us. Anyway, I gotta grab some food. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Arthur. Charles, always nice to see you," he lied. Eli knew if the circumstances were different, he would probably be good friends with Charles. He thought that Nicole would love Charles too, but he just couldn't get past the image of Charles and Arthur together, couldn't get over the easy way they existed around each other, effortless. Comfortable. What he wanted.

The opening night of The Wizard of Oz, Eli drove to the theater early, knowing his stage makeup would take ages to get on. He got help pulling on the silver-painted cardboard tubes that made up his costume and drank some tea to help his voice. Staring out into the audience through a crack in the curtains, he felt nerves shuddering through him and wondered if he was going to end up with stage fright. It had been a long time since he had been up on a stage in front of an audience.

"You'll be alright, son," Hosea assured him with a pat on the shoulder, rustling his costume.

"Where's Dutch?" Eli asked, expecting to see him in the audience.

"Called away unfortunately. He's working on a case against an oil company in Houston. Cornwall Oil and Gas, I think. He'll be gone for the next week."

"That's a shame, he'll miss the show."

"Oh, he's too hoity toity for The Wizard of Oz, anyway. He might make an appearance if we ever do Les Mis or Fiddler." Eli chuckled.

At seven pm, music began to play, the house lights dimmed and the curtains streamed open. After his initial nerves wore off, Eli had a wonderful time singing and dancing, the bright lights of the stage making him sweat in his costume, but he hardly noticed. He had forgotten how much he loved this art, how much he adored performing, being someone else for a while instead of just being regular old Eli. At the end of the show, he bowed, arm-in-arm with his cast mates, feeling his cheeks redden as people snapped pictures of him.

"Encore, encore," Arthur hollered, making the audience chuckle and applaud in agreement. A few people stopped by for pictures with him, Arthur among them.

"That was real nice, Eli. Real nice."

"Thanks, Arthur," he answered, smiling gently at him.

"Come here, Charles, take a photo of us, will you?" Arthur bent down to wrap an arm around Eli and pressed the side of his face against Eli's, catching him completely off guard. His skin was warm against his own, and his hair was soft, his arm across his shoulders heavy and reassuring. Eli swallowed, his smile half-panicked as Charles used his own cell phone to take the picture since Arthur's was a stone-age flip phone with little in the way of picture-taking capabilities.

Arthur took Charles' phone and stared at the photo, his smile faltering slightly. He glanced up at Eli and Eli wondered what he had seen, but was interrupted when the local bookshop owner, Tilly Jackson, approached.

"That was wonderful, Eli! I never knew you had such a great singin' voice! Tell you what, you swing by the store this next week, I'm going to give you a book I enjoyed this so much."

"Well, thank you, Tilly! How's Magnolia doing? Any more hairball troubles?"

A few feet away, Arthur held Charles' phone in a trembling hand. In the picture, Eli's face was sweet, surprised. Truly happy that Arthur was pressed against him. He swallowed.

"Come on, Charles. It's getting late."

The two of them stepped outside into the dim parking lot and a figure stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the streetlamp that illuminated the parking lot.

“Arthur. So nice to see you this evening,” Sean drawled in his lilting Irish accent. Arthur’s jaw clenched.

“Sean. Let’s talk about this later.” Charles stepped up close to Arthur, putting a hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. Arthur glanced at him, feeling shame and frustration boil in his blood.

“Charles! Good to see you too. Now, get lost,” Sean ordered with a grin that showed he was missing a few teeth. Charles straightened to his full height, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No,” he said simply. Sean laughed.

“Alright, it’s not as though you don’t know what your friend here has gotten himself into. Legally, I might add. So we’ll talk about this now, Yank. You owe money. A debt you agreed to pay. Or will you make me have to send someone to little Johnny’s house and have them break a few of his fingers? Hard to hold a hammer with broken fingers, eh?” Arthur swallowed.

“It don’t gotta be like this, Sean. We used to be friends, you and I.” Sean barked a quick, friendly laugh, holding his arms out to his sides in a massive shrug.

“We’re still friends, Ar’tur. But you owe. Strauss don’t like waitin’ for his money. The next time someone comes, it’ll be Tommy. And I don’t tink you or I want that now, do ye?”

“Do you want me to call the cops, Arthur?” Charles asked softly, pulling his phone from his back pocket. Arthur scowled.

“Don’t bother. I signed paperwork with the lender. These…threats, they ain’t gonna be taken seriously by the cops. I’ll have the muney to Strauss this week, Sean,” Arthur ground out, his Southern accent thickening in the depths of his rage. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

“See that you do, Ar’tur.”

“And Sean,” Arthur called as the small red-headed man turned away. “If you hafta send someone, you send ‘em to me. John don’t need to be no part of this. He’s out.” Sean raised a brow.

“Have it your way, Ar’tur. But it’s awful hard performin’ surgery with broken hands.” Arthur gulped. “Until next time, Yank.”

\------

A few weeks after The Wizard of Oz wrapped up its showing, Eli sat down at his desk after collecting the previous day’s mail from the clinic box. He didn’t usually check the mail, that was more Miss Grimshaw and Arthur’s task, but he wanted an excuse to drink coffee for a few more minutes before his work day started. He flipped through the catalogues advertising surgical instruments, lighting and lifts and then lazily perused Merck’s newest inventory before moving on to the letters the clinic had received. There were a few thank you notes, a small pile of spam mail, and then, in bright red letters, he noticed a bill. It was for one of the accounts they purchased drugs through for the clinic pharmacy. “OVERDUE,” the envelope declared in garish red capital letters. Eli frowned. Arthur didn’t strike him as the kind of person to be late paying bills.

“Miss Grimshaw,” he called, stepping out of his office and walking toward the lobby. “Do you know anything about this?” He handed her the envelope and she took a shaky breath.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Morgan about it later, Dr. Jensen. Don’t you worry about it,” she advised. He nodded, but he couldn’t help but notice when she opened a drawer to file the bill, that there was a sheaf of envelopes all showing similar warnings.

Eli could do nothing but worry about it. Worrying about things was just part of his personality. A conversation he heard two weeks later did absolutely nothing to alleviate his anxiety over the bill he had found.

There were whispering voices, urgent, tight in one of the surgical suites. Eli crept closer, concerned.

“Now I know you got your brother out of that bind, Dr. Morgan, but you cannot make the clinic suffer for your choices. Will the staff still get paid?”

“Of course they will, Miss Grimshaw, what kinda person do you think I am? It’s just the drug accounts we’re behind on. We may need to start sendin’ folk to get their drugs from outside pharmacies if it becomes a problem.”

“It is already a problem, Dr. Morgan –”

“Susan, I am not going to argue with you about this.” There was a long sigh.

“That Mr. O’Driscoll called again, Arthur.”

“Fuck.”

“He’s offerin’ a lot of money,” she said, her voice forceful.

“I am not havin’ this conversation. We are talking about…we are talking about,” and he lowered his voice so much that Eli couldn’t hear what he had urgently hissed to Miss Grimshaw.

“You obviously need the financial assistance, Arthur, please. I know you don’t want to do any work for Colm after all that nonsense with Dutch, but I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I’m fine,” he told her dismissively. “Charles is crashin’ with me, so I keep staying up too late catchin’ up with him. But I’m fine.” Eli’s stomach twisted and he walked away, not wanting to know what all of that was about. Miss Grimshaw was right. Arthur looked rough.

“Everything alright, Arthur?” he asked when Arthur bumped into him in the employee lounge, which was really more of a large closet with a coffeemaker, a microwave and a fridge.

“I’m fine,” Arthur snapped.

“Alright,” Eli said softly, stepping out of the room.

“Eli,” Arthur called, realizing how harsh his tone had been. He scowled, smearing his hand down over his eyes and to his chin where he scratched absently. Something had to give.

\-------

“Look, I’ve only got half the muneh this month, Strauss. I’m tryin’, but I only make so much.”

“What you do or do not make is of no concern to me, Dr. Morgan. But I expect your debt to be paid on time.” Arthur shuffled where he stood in the drab strip mall payday loan shop.

“Strauss, please. I still need to pay my employees.” The thin Austrian man raised a brow.

“Und you think zat I do not? I expect the rest by the end of the day, Dr. Morgan. Or zere will be…consequences.”

“Fine,” Arthur said softly. “I’ll figure somethin’ out.” Arthur got into his truck and drove home, his fists white-knuckling the steering wheel. He walked out into one of the huge pastures and let loose a low whistle though what he really wanted to do was scream in frustration. Boadicea came trotting up in all her shiny, long-legged glory. She stood nearly seventeen hands tall, a monster height for a Tennessee Walker mare. Her coat was a bright copper red and her mane and tail were a complimentary black red that faded to maroon at the ends. She whickered and nudged his hands, searching for treats.

Arthur rested his forehead against hers for a moment, his hand stroking her cheek.

“Eeeeasy girl,” he encouraged as she snorted and stomped the ground, wanting a carrot. He rummaged in his pocket and located a peppermint from his lunch, giving it to her with a small smile. Looking out across the pasture, he stared at Hosea and Dutch’s house, tempted to just ask them for help, to admit that he had taken on a debt he couldn’t handle. But that would mean outing John and his stupidity. Not for the last time, Arthur cursed his younger brother for his foolish decisions. He had gotten involved in an underground poker ring, and he had been good at it – great even.

Until he wasn’t.

John lost so much money he would have lost his small contracting business trying to pay it off. And his pride got in the way of him asking for help. Were it not for the fact that Arthur knew the men John had gotten himself into trouble with, he would have lost everything. Arthur had no doubt Abigail would have left him over it, taking the house and Jack with her. He couldn’t blame her, really. It was hardly the first stupid thing John had done. In the end, Arthur had assured John that he had taken care of the debt by having it forgiven, that he had chalked it all up to a misunderstanding.

Not knowing what else to do, and unwilling to see his little brother destroyed, Arthur had actually taken on the massive amount of debt for his brother and paid it with help from a loan from the local money lender, Leopold Strauss. The loan hadn’t covered all of the initial debt, however, leaving Arthur with no choice but to clear out his savings, and sell off his investments. He still owed Strauss nearly fifty thousand dollars now. That was a debt he could manage were it not for the fact that he had to pay it off in just six months.

Or else.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling his throat tighten with the stress, feeling anger, frustration, fear. Reaching his hand back into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. He flipped through his contacts, hesitating for a moment over Eli’s name. His thumb rubbed against the select button, tempted to call him just to talk, to ask him to get a beer. Spending time with him would make him feel better, he thought. Or much, much worse. He forced air out through his nostrils to calm himself and scrolled to a contact simply labelled “O’Driscoll.”

The phone rang twice, then picked up.

“Arthur. Now how did I know you’d be givin’ me a call? I hear Dutch is startin’ up shit with that oil company, and I heard a few months back you’ve gone and gotten yourself in debt with old Leopold. Was there ever a Van der Linde that didn’t go out of their way to do dumb shit?” Colm O’Driscoll gave a rattling laugh.

“If I agree to do what you want, it’s a one-time deal, I gotta have some kind of guarantee that it ain’t gonna go no further, Colm.” There was another dry laugh.

“Desperate men don’t get to make demands, boy. And you’re desperate, that’s for damn sure.”

“You know what, Colm? Never mind.”

“You tell Dutch ‘hello’ for me, y’hear?” Arthur slammed the phone shut and realized he was panting with anger. What the hell was he going to do?

\------

Eli stepped out of the shower, surveying himself in the mirror. He was lean, but muscular and he tried to get sun, but given his propensity for burning, he could really only look tan if he accumulated so many freckles that his ‘tan’ was, in fact, just a single enormous freckle made of millions that simply made him appear tan. He brushed a hand over the scar just beneath his ribs on his right side and then down over the tattooed word “Unshaken” just beneath it. Today would be a good day, he decided, patting Spud when she wandered up and licked his bare thigh.

“Hey girl,” he greeted her, scratching behind her ear until she flopped down and tried to balance to scratch with her back leg, only to fall over with an irritated huff. “Trust me, girl, it takes time. You’ll get there,” he encouraged her, letting her lean on him to stand. Eli dressed for work and grabbed a bag of treats after he let Spud out to do her business. She loped up to him, tongue lolling wildly. "Spud, sit. Good girl! Lay down. Good! Roll over. Good dog! You're so smart," Eli assured her, feeding her treats as her tail wobbled happily.

She had been a good companion, a good friend to stave off the loneliness and to distract him from whatever it was Arthur and Charles had going on between them. He had done well the past two months ignoring their interactions. He avoided karaoke night and The Cut Throat like the plague, spending his spare time training Spud, running, and fixing his constantly-in-need-of-maintenance jeep. He scratched Spud’s ears one last time and then left, starting up his jeep and heading into work, cursing when his turn signal decided not to work.

As though the universe needed to remind him that it would never be on his side, Eli saw bright blue and red lights strobing behind him.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, pulling over. The cop took his sweet time climbing out of his patrol car and Eli snorted at what he saw in his rearview mirror. He could practically see the chip on the big cop’s shoulder. He had scraggly blonde hair beneath a felt Stetson, a blonde horseshoe mustache stained with tobacco juice and a belly that suggested to Eli that the cop had long ago stopped caring if he could catch criminals on foot. He scowled and had his ID and insurance card ready, realizing with a shock that he had entirely forgotten to have his ID changed. He had lived in Texas long enough now that he could technically get a citation for it if the cop decided to be a dick. And so of course, he did.

“Afternoon, son,” the cop drawled, surveying Eli with a nasty expression from bloodshot blue eyes. _“Deputy Micah Bell”_ declared the metal name badge on his chest. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No sir,” Eli said, his standard response when dealing with cops. Innocent until proven guilty, he reminded himself, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“You didn’t signal your turn just then.” Eli knew better than to try to explain that it was a maintenance issue. He also knew better than to respond at all. Any response could be interpreted as an admission of guilt. Officer Bell bent down low, glaring at Eli. “You forget how to talk, boy?”

“No sir,” he responded, feeling a vein in his temple throbbing. “Just wanting to get to work.”

“Uh huh.” Bell took Eli’s license and insurance card. “This is a California ID,” he pointed out. “Insurance card is dated three months ago and has a Texas address.” Eli said nothing and Bell scowled. “Where do you work?” he asked, trying a different tack.

“Good Faith Veterinary Clinic,” Eli admitted, hoping Arthur’s good reputation would buy him some grace from this asshole. Bell snorted. “I’m the new vet.”

“So Morgan’s decided he likes ‘em young, huh?”

“What?” Eli asked dumbly, shocked and not certain what was meant by that. Bell narrowed his eyes.

“Guess he never told you what happened to the last vet that worked for him, huh?”

“No, officer, but I don’t imagine it’s much of my business, either,” Eli retorted. Bell laughed and then narrowed his eyes.

“Well, you are absolutely no fun, are you? Alright then. You stick tight. I’ll be back.”

What the fuck had this asshole cop meant? What had happened to the last vet? Eli wondered, feeling anxious, his palms sweating. He picked up his phone and texted Arthur.

**Eli Jensen:** Gonna be late. Got pulled over. Sorry.

**Arthur Morgan:** No worries. Don’t get shot.

**Eli Jensen:** Very funny.

Bell finally approached, tossing Eli’s license and insurance card into his lap instead of handing it to him.

“Sign here,” he ordered.

“Why?” Eli asked. Bell sniffed.

“I’m citing you for failing to use your turn signal, for failing to report your change of address and,” Bell continued, glancing to his patrol car no doubt to see where his dashcam was pointed before bending down and grinning at Eli, his hand putting a vice-grip on Eli’s shoulder, “a Class C disorderly conduct.”

“Disorderly conduct?!” Eli exclaimed, jerking his shoulder out of Bell’s grasp.

“Next time you answer me when I speak to you,” Bell shrugged with a nasty sneer. “Signing this is not an admission of guilt, it’s just sayin’ you’ll show up to talk to the judge in the next ten days.” Eli begrudgingly signed and Bell grinned widely, handing him his copy of the citations. “Have a nice day, y’hear?”

Eli sat for a long time, waiting for Bell to drive off first. When he didn’t, he finally huffed out a breath and prepared himself before he put his jeep back into gear. Of course, this time his signal worked and he let loose a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush.

Even after he made his way to work, parked his car and trudged in with a cursory greeting to the staff, Eli's mind was still focused on what had happened on his morning commute, which was why encountering Arthur in the back of the clinic holding an icepack to his eye caught him so off guard. He actually jumped a bit, startled and concerned.

“Arthur?! You okay?” Arthur looked up, removing the icepack for a moment. He was sporting a wickedly purple-black eye and a split lip. “Jesus, what the hell happened to you?”

“Got kicked by a horse,” Arthur answered flatly. Eli bit his lip, thinking of the bills he had seen.

“You take some Tylenol?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur insisted, but Eli stretched out a hand, tipping Arthur’s chin to the side so he could get a better look. For an instant, their eyes locked and Eli quickly removed his hand, stepping back as his cheeks flushed crimson.

“That’s one hell of a shiner. If a horse did that to you, you’d be concussed,” he pointed out. Arthur scowled, winced, scowled again before letting out an annoyed growl.

“It’s fine.”

“Arthur. If I’m going to work for you, especially as a resident who might become your business partner one day, I need you to be honest with me,” Eli pleaded.

“It ain’t none of your concern,” Arthur snapped. Eli felt his temper snap.

“It _is_ my concern when I check the mail and find unpaid bills. It is my concern when I wonder if I’m still going to have a paycheck or a job because of something you’ve done. And as of this morning, it’s now my concern what the fuck happened to the last vet who worked here.” Arthur’s face paled.

“What? Who the fuck did you talk to?”

“Officer Bell,” Eli said softly and Arthur scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. “Look, I’m not gonna try to discuss personal shit with you. But when it affects my job, I need to know. Is working for you going to hurt my career?” Arthur blew out a breath.

“No. No, it’s not, Eli. My last partner was…my _partner._ We started this clinic together, but then he decided he wanted to move to work at a university. I didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to stay. You can look him up if you really want to. His name’s Albert Mason. He works at Cornell now. Look, it’s a small community here in Tahiti. Everybody knows we was together, though we never came right out with it. That was the other thing. He…he wanted to keep us quiet. Secret.” Arthur’s face took on a deeply morose expression. “I wanted to marry him, the very instant it became legal to do so. We wanted different things, and now he’s gone and you’re here, and I’m glad you are, Eli. You’re a damn good vet. You’re right. You deserve to know the mess I got myself into. Let’s get some dinner tonight and we can discuss it.” Eli nodded, feeling simultaneously much better and much worse about his entire situation.

“Alright,” he agreed. “How about the Italian place?”

“I could go for some spaghetti and endless breadsticks,” Arthur grinned before wincing again.

“Here,” Eli handed him a fresh icepack from the freezer. “You good to work?”

“Course,” Arthur grunted and he smiled slightly. “How many citations did Bell write you for?” Eli scowled.

“Three. Can you fucking believe he wrote me for disorderly conduct because I wasn’t talkative? And the bastard put his hand on me!” Arthur’s face went from amusement to rage, but he took a breath and calmed himself.

“Evidently you mentioned you work with me. So no, I ain’t ‘xactly surprised. Me and Bell have never seen eye to eye. Dutch has been pretty busy with his case in Houston, but I could have him put in a word with the judge for you, if you like.”

“No, that’s alright,” Eli immediately objected, embarrassed. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and it was so distinctly different from Bell’s violating grasp that Eli found himself leaning into the touch.

“You’re family, Eli. Let us help you. ‘Sides, you wouldn’t have gotten three citations if you hadn’t mentioned me,” Arthur cackled. Eli felt his chest warm and he nodded tightly.

“Sure, Arthur. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Arthur murmured, and Eli thought he had never heard those words uttered so sincerely.


	7. Spaghetti and Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli and Arthur talk. Arthur decides what he wants and to hear that Dutch has been arrested. Eli loses a patient and finds himself reliving a nightmare when he tries to escape and blow off some steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, it's another possibly trigger-heavy chapter, so please heed the following content warnings:
> 
> CW: alcohol as a coping mechanism  
> CW: description of a terroristic attack  
> CW: non-graphic death of an animal  
> CW: nonconsensual drug use  
> CW: roofieing  
> CW: flashbacks/dissociation  
> CW: homophobia  
> CW: anxiety attack

Angelo’s was packed. The small Italian restaurant was known for “the best spaghetti north of the Rio Grande,” though Eli failed to see why that was notable given that spaghetti originated in Italy. Regardless, the restaurant exuded charm. The exterior was done up in natural stone and smooth plaster painted a soothing olive green. Rich, thickly-leaved ivy climbed up the sides of the building and tumbled in a verdant mass over the slate rooftop. Eli felt a little out of place in his simple red polo and black jeans, but was relieved when he stepped inside and realized that no one was dressed up, despite the niceness of the building. The inside was just as elegant and comfortable as the outside, with wood paneled ceilings, a dark orange-brown marbled floor, soft yellow lighting and mahogany tables and chairs. The restaurant was filled with the dull roar of dozens of people chatting and silver wear clinking against plates. There were candles on the tables, and flowers too, baby’s breath and white roses arranged delicately amid sprigs of fresh mint.

“Shit,” Eli muttered. He had suggested this restaurant because of its reviews on Google, combined with its reasonable prices. But this place…this place looked like somewhere Eli would bring someone on a date. But Arthur had agreed to it. Eli blushed, feeling self-conscious.

“Table for one?” the young hostess asked. Jesus, did he look that hopeless? Eli wondered.

“Er, no, two, actually, unless Dr. Morgan is already here?” Her face lit up.

“Oh! Yes, he’s here. Just follow me.” Eli obeyed, his hands in his jeans pockets, his heart beating a little quicker than usual.

It nearly stopped when he spotted Arthur. He had slicked his hair into a dapper style and was wearing a cotton blue shirt tucked into form-fitting khaki pants over his usual Western boots. The only thing that looked unkempt about him was his blackened eye.

“Hey Eli,” he greeted with a smile. “Ordered us a pitcher, hope you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Eli said easily, accepting the pint of beer Arthur poured him.

“It’s Peroni. I don’t think it’s very good, but Mr. Bronte prides himself on offerin’ Italian beer, so that’s what we’ve got. You okay?” Eli realized he had been staring at Arthur a little dreamily and internally berated himself.

“Long day,” he answered with a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Went over to the Balfours today to check on King. He’s still not doing right. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“I think an exploratory surgery might be the only thing if the MRI didn’t reveal nothin’,” Arthur pointed out with a sigh.

“Yeah, and the damn vet hospital charged ‘em an arm and a leg for that.”

“It’s what they do.” Eli sighed and took a drink of his beer.

“So,” he started, “about…”

“Do you gentlemen know what you’d like to eat tonight?” interrupted the waiter. Eli clenched his jaw, but forced a friendly expression onto his face.

“House special is fine,” he said, though he hadn’t even had an opportunity to look at the menu. Arthur ordered spaghetti and some sort of olive and ricotta cannoli that made Eli immediately regret his hasty order, but what was done was done.

“Anyway, about today…”

“You’ve met my brother, John?” Arthur asked. Eli nodded.

“I’ve encountered him once or twice when he’s come to the clinic. Seems nice.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Arthur said evenly, though his expression was one of affection. “Look, I’m caught up on the bills for the clinic, so you don’t gotta worry about that…”

“As of today’s beating?” Eli asked, not interested in beating around the bush. Clearly Arthur had pissed someone off. Arthur scoffed a sound of irritation, at either Eli or himself.

“Play stupid games, sometimes you win stupid prizes. Look, long story short, I bailed my brother outta somethin’ stupid he did and now I’m trying to get myself out of that. It’s under control now, but there for a bit…payin’ your student loans kinda took it outta me.” Eli felt his face flush. That was a huge part of why he had taken the job.

“I, um, I needed that, Arthur. I still do,” he admitted, his cheeks blazing red from having to admit such.

“I know, I know, and I’m still plannin’ on payin’ the rest of the first six months like the ad said, but damn if I didn’t overextend myself.”

“Clearly.” Arthur’s gaze flicked up from his beer glass and Eli regretted his tone. “I’m sorry. That came out way more aggressively than I intended. It’s just…I have a lot of,” he stopped himself, his pride getting in the way of admitting he had anxiety, “I worry a lot. About…well, everything, really. So, I just needed to know that it would be okay. And I know this is just a two year residency, but in the phone interview we had discussed maybe a partnership…?” Arthur nodded, chewing a breadstick from the basket that had been deposited on their table a moment before.

“We had,” he said, his tone cautious. Eli’s stomach sank and he realized. Arthur didn’t want that anymore. Not after he had lied. He thought they were past this, thought they could at least be coworkers, thought that… “I’m still open to it, Eli, if that’s still what you want. You’ve still got a lot of learnin’ to do, but you’re a good vet. I’ve been impressed with you so far. You’ve got some sense about some things.” Eli tried to ignore the unstated insult there. Arthur smiled to break the tension. “It’s just…” He sighed, swallowed, took another bite of breadstick and looked away from Eli.

The waiter approached with their food, and it turned out that Eli’s order had, in fact, been a good one. In front of him was set a steaming plate of various foods. There were two distinct breaded balls that turned out to be Arancini, a savory treat made with pinenuts and rice. Next to it was a small bowl of Ribollita soup and a hearty serving of chicken Saltimbocca wrapped in prosciutto and served atop a pile of angel hair noodles.

“Damn,” Arthur commented, blinking in surprise. “That looks good.” Eli grinned, pleased with his order now that he felt his stomach rumbling.

“You want one?” he offered, pointing his fork at one of the Arancini.

“Shoa, I’ll take a bit,” Arthur agreed, using his fork to grab a bite. They ate their food, chatting about their day, about clients and about Eli’s time in California. He missed it, but he found that he was greatly enjoying living in Texas, which he commented on. A happy glint appeared in Arthur’s eye as he drained the last of the pitcher and ordered another. Eli was barely keeping up, but he did feel warmth in his cheeks, and felt some of his usual anxiety about how their relationship had begun ebbed away.

“Arthur,” he began, about to explain himself, about to tell him about his assault and his subsequent constant fear of being attacked for being gay, but Arthur interrupted him before he could begin, a trend this evening, he noted with a flare of bad temper.

“I know we had, kinda a bad start, but, Eli, I want you to know that I think you’re a real good fella. I’m glad to have you around.” Eli heard the ‘but’ in his voice. He was warning him against starting the conversation he had been about to start. It hardly mattered anyway, he was obviously with Charles, in some manner or other. There, that was his out, Eli thought.

“So, how have you and Charles been?” he asked, pasting on a smile he didn’t feel. Arthur glanced up, frowning.

“Me n’ Charles? Fine, I guess. He’s fixin’ to take off for field work again. He crashes at my place whenever he ain’t out in the middle of nowhere. He’s nice to have around. He’s a real good friend.” Just like that, Eli’s world came crashing down around his ears. He felt rather than heard his fork _tink_ against his plate and his jaw dropped slightly. That had been the biggest obstacle the past months.

“F-friend?” he asked, blinking. Arthur frowned.

“Well, yeah, what else would he be?”

“I, er, I thought that you…” Arthur barked a short laugh around a mouthful of spaghetti.

“Nah, we’re just friends. He ain’t interested in that sorta thing anyway.”

“Oh.” Arthur surveyed his face.

“Eli?” Eli drained his beer and poured another before he began.

“I, um, Arthur...” Arthur’s face went stony.

“Let me stop you right there, Eli. I…we…we shouldn’t. Again. You’re my employee. It would be inappropriate.”

“Oh,” Eli breathed. So he still wanted to. He still wanted him. He could see it in his eyes. “Why?” Arthur swallowed.

“I just…I don’t want to go through this again, Eli. I think it’s best we just stay what we are.”

“Oh.” It seemed to be the most useful word in his vocabulary, suddenly. “Wh…what if I said I wanted to try?” he asked softly, his heart thundering in his chest despite the dozy buzz of alcohol in his veins. He reached a hand out, covered Arthur’s. Arthur allowed the touch for just a moment, the back of his hand cool. Then he pulled away.

“I…I’ll think about it, Eli.” Eli swallowed, returned his hand to its place in his lap. Arthur’s face brightened and it was clear he was about to force a change of subject since the waiter was approaching. “Well, how about some dessert? The tiramisu is great here.”

“I’m good, Arthur, I’m not going to be able to finish all of this, but thanks for coming out and chatting with me. I feel a lot better about…things.”

“Course,” Arthur said easily, though there was discomfort etched in his features beneath the forced smile.

“So, gentlemen, separate checks?”

“Yes,” Eli blurted.

“Nah, I’ve got this,” Arthur objected. “Call it a business dinner. Like I said, things are under control, Eli.” Arthur gave him a reassuring look, though its effect was somewhat lessened by the blackness of his eye.

They made their way outside and Arthur lit a cigarette, leaning against his Bronco, which was parked at the back corner of the parking lot. He stared at Eli for a moment as they allowed the cool night air to sober them. Crickets and katydids sang and stars appeared as clouds dissipated.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Eli pointed out, staring up.

“Sure is,” Arthur agreed. “It’s gorgeous, out on the ranch. No outside lights. Just darkness, and stars.”

“I’d like to see that,” spilled from Eli’s mouth before he could stop himself. Arthur turned to him, longing on his handsome face. In for a dime, in for a dollar, Eli thought. “Arthur, can I kiss you?” he asked, and he thought that he would explode, every atom of his body shattering into the night when Arthur answered:

“Yes,” and it came out as a kind of keening moan. Arthur pressed his lips to Eli’s, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, sliding his other hand down Eli’s waist to caress his hip. He pushed Eli so that his back was against the door of the Bronco, pinning him to it, his tongue prodding at Eli’s lips. Eli groaned and gave it entrance, his own bucking against it, tasting, feeling. His fingers slid through Arthur’s soft hair, mussing the carefully arranged styling. Eli pushed his hips forward, rubbing against Arthur, wanting this, wanting him, wanting everything and please, yes, please, he cried in his mind, his fingers scrabbling at Arthur’s shirtfront to pull him closer. Arthur pulled away from the kiss with a gasp.

“Stop,” he murmured, pulling back, breathless. “Slow down, Eli. I…I let myself get carried away. I ain’t tryin’ to lead you on, but I need some time.” Eli realized he was trembling. “I…I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur muttered. “I feel like a damn fool. I feel like a predator, letting you kiss me, letting you touch me like that,” he blurted, standing and wiping his lips with his forearm.

“I asked you, not the other way around,” Eli reminded him, and the terrified expression on Arthur’s face was almost too much to bear. He was afraid of being hurt again, of Eli leaving him, he realized. In Eli’s face he saw his ex all over again, and the thought both enraged and grieved Eli.

“I should go,” Arthur said, misery in his voice. “I…have a good night, Eli.”

\--------

A week later, Eli received a text from Hosea in the theater group chat.

"Hello all! We have officially decided to do 'Beauty and the Beast.' Audition dates will be sent out next week." Eli groaned and tossed his phone back onto the coffee table. He really didn't want to do a Disney musical. Annoyed, he flipped on the television, watching several re-runs of Bonanza before he began to snooze on his couch, Spud lying halfway in his lap, her paws paddling as she dreamed. There was a loud beep from the television that startled her awake with a soft bark and then the broadcast changed. Eli sat up, frowning. Replacing Lorne Greene's face was the image of a building engulfed in flame and a reporter holding a mic.

"We bring you an emergency broadcast. Authorities say that an explosion has rocked the Cornwall Oil and Gas plant. The fire is currently raging and initial reports suggest that it may have been intentionally set off. It is too early to determine if this was an act of terrorism. Houston firefighters are currently working to control the flames coming from the pipeline and the surrounding plant buildings. Cornwall Oil and Gas has not yet prepared a statement, but they have confirmed that there were employees present in the building when the explosion went off. Residents are advised to take alternate routes if they need to get anywhere near Beaumont this evening through tomorrow morning."

"Here, we're showing a map of the area impacted by the blast and subsequent fumes. Any residents in this area are being encouraged to evacuate due to the smoke coming from the plant. We are receiving calls that residents as far as fifteen miles away heard the blast when it went off." Eli's gut twisted. Dutch had been in and out of Houston for the past few months fighting them on a case related to one of their pipelines. Hopefully he had no reason to be anywhere near the pipelines. He wanted to call Arthur to see if Dutch was alright, but Arthur had reverted to barely talking to Eli, largely ignoring his presence in the clinic in lieu of focusing on keeping his clients happy. Eli wasn’t even sure if he would answer a call from him, so he grabbed his phone, and instead sent a message to Hosea outside of the theater group chat.

**Eli Jensen:** "Hey Dutch wasnt anywhere near that explosion was he?"

Eli waited with baited breath as the three little dots that told him Hosea was typing scrolled across the screen. They flickered there for a moment, and then vanished. No message came. Feeling vaguely nauseated, Eli thought about calling. Instead, he finally decided to text Arthur, unsure if he would get a response from him. "Hey dont know if you have been watching the news. Is Dutch in Houston?"

**Arthur:** "Yes. He's fine. Hosea's on the phone with him now."

**Eli:** "Thank god. Everything okay?" Arthur never responded.

Arthur showed up late to work the following day, dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

"Hey, you okay?" Eli asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm alright. Tired."

"Is Dutch okay?"

"He's fine. He's in Houston right now." Eli frowned.

"Is Hosea alright?"

"He's fine. Can we please just start the day?" Arthur asked defensively. Eli forced himself to calm.

"Sorry. Of course. Just...let me know if you need anything." Arthur swallowed.

"Thank you." Arthur threw himself into his work that day, avoiding personal questions, though the whole staff seemed deeply concerned about this demeanor. Latest reports were that the explosion was, indeed, an intentional attack, possibly of a terroristic nature. Everyone was on edge.

To make matters worse, the Balfour’s prize stallion, King, crashed that afternoon. Feeling as though he had swallowed a cup of acid, Eli turned to Mr. Balfour from where he had been leaning over the prostrate horse.

“I’m sorry, Cal. He’s in a lot of pain. I think the best thing to do would be to put him down.”

“I…” Cal Balfour took a shaky breath and Eli wanted to disappear. King was the horse they had built their ranching business around, a prize Quarter horse. “I kinda figured that was comin’,” he forced out. “Do it.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said dully. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are, son. And I know you tried your best. We’ve got a few foals out of him. Poor guy. Hey, easy boy,” Cal comforted, bending down so he could stroke the massive horse’s cheek. It whickered tiredly. Eli did what he had come to do, forcing back a sheen of tears as the life left the animal’s eyes. It is never easy to lose a patient. It is worse if you don’t know why. The Balfours couldn’t afford to send the animal off for testing, leaving Eli feeling incompetent and powerless. He returned to the clinic and knocked on Arthur’s door.

“Reckon you heard from Kieran,” he said softly.

“He told me. I don’t disagree with your decision. It’s gonna hit them hard, though,” Arthur said, his voice exhausted.

“Was it my fault?” Eli whispered. Arthur’s face softened.

“You can’t blame yourself, kid. When it’s your fault, you’ll know it. Save your self-hatred for those times. In the meantime, read more. Find some papers. See if you can’t still diagnose him.”

“But he’s dead,” Eli argued.

“That don’t mean you can’t still learn somethin’ from him.” Eli started to turn away, stopped, resting his forehead against the doorframe of Arthur’s office.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to get a drink or something tonight? I just…I need to let off some steam.” Arthur’s face was very cautious.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Eli.” Eli’s heart sank, but he nodded.

“Alright, well, I’ve got my last call of the day, then I’m off. Have a good evening, Arthur.”

“You too, Eli.”

Eli drove home after his last appointment, his knuckles stark white where he clenched the steering wheel. He tried to sort in his mind what he was feeling, why he was feeling it. All he felt was angry. He had never had a chance to explain himself, never been given an opportunity to fix things before being abruptly shut down. He and Arthur co-existed at work, and at least Arthur wasn’t a dick to him anymore but still. There was clearly something between them. After so many months since their torrid affair, he wanted to try. He wanted to reach out and touch those calloused hands, run his thumb across that plush lower lip. He wanted to sigh and moan as Arthur made love to him.

But Arthur had apparently been hurt before, devastated, even, to hear of it. Eli had timidly mentioned Albert to Hosea at the theatre, only to be immediately shut down.

“I thought you knew better than to go rummaging through other people’s business, Eli,” Hosea had chided in his fatherly tone. He had sighed. “He hurt Arthur. Real bad. I don’t think he’s ever fully recovered. But give him time.” Eli had met the older man’s eyes, reddening.

“You know, don’t you?”

“Of course I know. He’s my son. I knew from the moment you set foot in my house for dinner that you were the man he fell for. Who hurt him too,” he scolded gently. This quiet disapproval from Hosea had been almost too much to bear.

Eli touched his forehead to his steering wheel, trying to decide what he wanted to do now, with this agony and this rage filling him. The grief from losing his patient, from being denied by Arthur, the hurt when Nicole didn’t pick up when he called for at least the fifth time that month…It weighed on him, making him feel so very alone.

“What should I do?” he murmured aloud, his chest aching.

What he wanted to do, he concluded, was go for a drive. It was how he cleared his head. In times when he felt full of anxious energy, Eli either went for a run or he went for a drive, usually blasting whatever music struck his fancy at the moment. In California, he had often driven his jeep onto the beach and gone for a run, but he knew the ocean was too far away for that. Austin, he thought. Austin is only about an hour from here. He plugged the aux cable he had wired into his old jeep’s radio console into his phone and pulled up “Summertime” by Orville Peck, his stomach flip flopping when he remembered Arthur’s smooth voice singing months before.

Eli pressed the clutch in and drove, letting the windows down so the wind could flutter through his wavy hair, trying to forget. The drive did little to soothe his anger and frustration at Arthur or himself. He pulled up to a loud club, thinking that maybe being lonely while surrounded by people was better than just being lonely. He was wearing a simple striped button down shirt and he opened it to mid chest, untucking it and stepping inside after a bouncer checked his ID. The large room was dimly lit with only lasers and erratically moving halogen lights providing illumination. Blacklights shone from the ceiling, so people’s teeth and brightly colored shirts glowed brightly, unnatural and garish. A few patrons were wearing glowsticks or light up necklaces. Eli let himself be pulled into the crowd, grinding against a large man who willingly pulled him in. Sweat trickled down his back as he jumped up and down with the crowd, grinning widely at his dance partner, who turned him around so they could see one another in the semi-darkness. The big man leaned forward.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asked, biting Eli’s earlobe gently and tugging at his belt buckle. Eli resisted the urge to pull away in the disgust at the sensation of a stranger’s teeth against his ear without his consent.

“I’m just here to dance, man, sorry,” he answered.

“Alright. Have fun.” The bigger man melted into the crowd. Eli, feeling somehow worse than before, made his way through the crammed dancefloor, parting faceless entities who writhed and bounced in a mass as the music blasted through his chest, almost overwhelming. He made it the bar, ordered a shot, knocked it back, then ordered another. He knew he still had to be at work tomorrow, so he had to keep it calm. He changed to beer. Turning to the person next to him, he smiled, seeing that they were trying to catch his eye.

“Come here often?” the guy asked, sidling closer. Eli half rolled his eyes.

“That your best line?”

“I only bring out the really good lines for guys who look relaxed. You look uptight. Need to relax.” Eli let his head drop and dangle from his neck for a moment before turning back to the guy.

“That’s what this night is about,” he explained over the roar of the music.

“Is it really?” the guy asked with a flirtatious smile, sliding closer, bringing his drink with him.

“Sure. Came here to let off some steam,” Eli replied. He turned to a girl in a sleek sequined dress who kept bumping into his side. “Do you mind?” he scowled.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she slurred, nearly spilling his drink. She righted it and grinned at him.

“Wanna dance?”

“Not with you,” he answered honestly, and she gave a noise of disgust, muttered a slur at him and sank into the crowd, Eli’s nameless companion chuckling after her.

“Charming,” the man commented.

“That’s one word for it,” Eli hissed, forcing himself to calm before turning back to his drink and chugging it, curling his lip at the bitterness of the beer. “I’d actually prefer to dance with you. Wanna join me?” he offered, holding out his hand in a gesture of invitation. Maybe it was the way the guy looked nothing like Arthur. Maybe it was the way his raven black hair was the opposite of Arthur’s well-groomed coif. Maybe it was the fact that he was dressed like someone who had never seen a horse in his life. Maybe it was just that he was lonely. Eli let himself be dragged out into the center of the dance floor again, gyrating his hips in time with the music, his partner’s hands roaming his body, sliding over the front of his groin. Shit. It felt good. Too good. The lights were too bright. “Do you…did it get brighter in here?” he asked, slurring his words. The music was too loud.

Hands grabbing his groin.

“Stop!”

Slurs muttered into his ear. A tongue against his cheek. A foot slamming into his ribs. The inability to breathe. Eli shook himself. This was not high school. He was not being attacked. The walls began to leak book pages. Birds fluttered out of the lights and he moaned in terror, stumbling in place, looking around wildly.

“Hey,” said an unfamiliar voice. “You okay, man?”

“What?” Eli demanded, eyes widening as the bodies next to him flickered in and out of existence. He clenched his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth squeaking, could feel a filling about to break. “What the fuck did you…”

Eli was suddenly in the bathroom, panting hard, feeling panic overwhelming him.

“No son of mine is going to be one of those,” came his father’s voice, angry and violent.

“We raised you better than this,” added his mother’s shaking sob.

Eli gasped, stumbling into one of the stalls and vomiting, his breaths coming in shaky gusts. Every awful moment of his life seemed to be flashing before him, and he wondered for a moment if he was dying.

Eli heard Arthur’s voice now, filled with quiet rage.

“You lied to me?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eli cried and he shook himself, trying to focus on what was real, trying to focus on the tiled bathroom wall, the graffitied stall door, the cold porcelain he was leaning against. He recognized that someone had drugged him, but in his state, he could only feel terror, panic. It was hard to breathe. He struggled to get his cellphone out of his pocket, flipping through his contacts until he thought he had selected “Hosea Matthews.”

\--------

Arthur sat in the living room of Dutch and Hosea’s home, his face in his hands. What the hell had Dutch done now? He wondered, deeply worried. Hosea had received a call earlier that day that Dutch had been arrested as a suspect in the oilfield explosion investigation. It was no secret to Arthur that Dutch had been quite the revolutionary in his younger days, throwing buckets of red paint on fur-wearing snobs and otherwise causing chaos in the name of nature and other causes. But to cause a plant to explode? And with innocent workers still inside? Arthur scowled.

Hearing his phone ring, he snatched it from his pocket, answering without looking at who was calling. There was a tearful voice on the other end.

“Hosea?” cried Eli in a heavily slurred voice and Arthur felt his heart stop. “Hosea, can you please come get me? I…I didn’t know who else to call…I’m sorry…somebody…I think somebody drugged my drink. Hosea, please…please…I’m so sorry…”

“Eli,” he said in a soft voice.

“I’m sorry,” Eli wailed, his voice breaking Arthur’s heart. “I’m sorry I lied, Arthur, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, boah,” Arthur cajoled. “Where are you, Eli?”

“I don’t know,” Eli answered, sniffling over the phone. “A bathroom.” Arthur smiled slightly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to remain calm for Eli’s sake.

“Eli. Take a deep breath. Where did you go tonight?” Arthur asked, his voice full of concern.

“The Valentine Club,” Eli gasped out, and Arthur could hear his breath accelerating, could hear him panicking.

“It’s okay, Eli. It’s okay. I’m comin’ to get you.”


	8. Nice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur rescues Eli and helps him process his feelings after being drugged. The two admit something to one another and new introductions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please heed the following content warnings. This chapter ends MUCH more happily but there is a continuation of the high-stress and possibly triggering incident from last chapter.
> 
> CW: dissociation (continuing from last chapter)  
> CW: brief description of attack (from previous chapters)  
> CW: non-consensual touch  
> CW: memory lapses  
> CW: mention of drug use/drug trip  
> CW: discussion of mental health  
> CW: discussion of medication  
> CW: Masturbation  
> CW: severe depressive episode  
> CW: mental self-harm

An hour had never seemed so long.

Correction, not quite forty-five minutes. Arthur pushed his Bronco hard, speeding down dark roads and only slowing to the speed limit as he drove through small towns. He had managed to track down the club, which was actually named “Valentine’s Soiree,” the terrible club name making him wince as he pulled up a map on his tiny phone screen.

“Stay with me, Eli, you still there?”

“Yeah, still here,” came the reply in a small, frightened voice.

“Good. Good boah, can you get somewhere safe? Do you know anyone there?”

“Just…came for fun. Dancing…didn’t mean to…”

“I know, Eli,” Arthur assured him, switching the phone to speaker so he could drive. The call was dropped fifteen minutes into the harrowing drive and Eli never picked back up. Arthur’s heart stayed in his throat for the rest of the trip and he nearly rear-ended someone pulling into the parking lot. He stormed through the doors of the club after glowering at a bouncer who obviously felt that checking his ID was not worth the hassle. Bombarded by loud music and garish lighting, Arthur pushed past people to the bar.

“Restroom?” he demanded. The bartender gave directions and he shoved his way through the dance floor, whirling on someone who dared to grope him as he went. Several people wilted at his glare and the crowd parted, seeming to sense his wrath. He shoved the bathroom door open and noticed that only one stall was occupied. He rapped on it with a knuckle. “Eli?”

“Nah, man,” came an unfamiliar voice and Arthur cursed, his heart in his throat. If something bad had happened to Eli, he would never forgive himself. He should have just gotten past his own personal angst and taken the kid out for drinks, then he wouldn’t have been here, wouldn’t have gotten drugged, or worse, Arthur thought, anguished at the idea of Eli being harmed in any way because of the choices he had made. Arthur pushed the bathroom door open and looked up and down the hallway, realizing there was an outside door at one end, leading away from the blaring music. He pushed his way out and saw Eli sitting on the curb of the alley, hugging his knees and rocking gently in place.

“Eli,” Arthur called softly. He pulled his jacket off and sat down next to the smaller man on the curb, sliding his jacket over Eli’s broad shoulders since he was trembling. It was cool, but not cold. “You alright?” Arthur asked. Eli turned to him woodenly and by the light of the streetlamps, Arthur saw that his pupils were blown wide and his face was deathly pale. He did not respond, as Arthur had expected, with relief. He instead looked even more terrified than before, his eyes widening when he recognized Arthur.

“Arthur, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie,” Eli blurted, skittering backwards and trying to fling Arthur’s jacket away but instead tangling himself in it.

“Now hang on, Eli, hang on, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m here to help you. Easy now, easy,” Arthur comforted, holding his hands out to show he wasn’t going to attack. Eli took a shuddering breath, still struggling to untangle himself from the jacket. “You tried callin’ Hosea. Think you called me by mistake. Hosea…he’s held up. But I’m here to help you. Come on. We need to get you to a hospital, get you some help.”

“No!” Eli half-shrieked before seeming to realize that he was yelling and he dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “No. No hospitals.” His hand went absently to his side, caressed the place where Arthur knew he had a jagged scar. Arthur hummed.

“Alright. Alright, look, can I take you home?” Eli nodded slowly, like a frightened child. “Yeah? Okay. Come on, then.” Arthur managed to help Eli untangle himself from his jacket and rearranged it back onto him, helping Eli pull his arms through. The sleeves were just a little too long and Arthur had to resist a small smile at the image of Eli cuddled in his jacket. He helped him to his Bronco, nervous when he saw that Eli had dissociated again, his head lolling and his eyes going wide as he ground his teeth. While he was waiting for him to become lucid again, Arthur searched for Eli’s jeep, found it and hitched it to his Bronco, pulling away from Austin and the small, noise-filled club where Eli had been drugged. Eli started the ride huddled against the passenger door, trembling and mumbling to himself. Arthur gave him a worried look, wondering if he should have insisted on the hospital trip, but it was clear from Eli’s distress that hospitals were a nightmare for him. As Arthur drove, Eli eventually calmed, scooting across the bench seat and eventually leaning his head against Arthur’s shoulder, ignoring the tugging of his seatbelt, which was trying with desperate canvas bands to restrain him to the passenger’s side of the vehicle.

“You’re okay, boah,” Arthur assured him in a soft voice, glancing away from the road for a moment to adjust his arm so that it was around Eli’s shoulders, fingers brushing his hair gently.

“Arthur,” Eli said softly, his eyes still out of focus.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming for me. I’m sorry I lied.” Arthur swallowed, feeling like an asshole for never giving him a chance to explain himself. Of course Eli had his reasons.

“It’s alright,” he assured him in a gentle tone.

“I thought you might hurt me,” Eli mumbled. Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“I thought you might hurt me. Might find me if you knew who I was. After. Had to be careful.” Arthur opened his mouth to again assure Eli that it was fine, but he seemed insistent to talk about it. “I was in high school,” he forced out, his voice a half sob. “He…in the bathroom…”

Arthur felt suddenly sick and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what happened next.

“Called me ‘faggot.’ Told me I was worthless. Told me I was a freak. He…touched me. Beat me.” Arthur swallowed with an audible click, the hand on the steering wheel gripping it so hard in anger that it squeaked slightly beneath his skin. “Broke my ribs. Hurt me. My parents…” Eli seemed to lose some of his lucidity for a moment and his head rolled around until he was gazing up at Arthur with a dull expression, “ashamed of me. So I lied. Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid all the time. And I’m alone all the time.”

“You’re not alone right now, Eli,” Arthur whispered, and he held him close, relieved when he saw the sign for the city limits of Tahiti. For a moment, he considered dropping Eli off at home, but he wasn't actually sure what Eli’s exact address was, and he wanted a place where he could keep an eye on Eli while he slept the drugs off. It was a moot point anyway, as when he asked Eli what his address was, Eli happily recited his old California address and dissociated again, humming something to himself. Arthur recognized the melody. "Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other," he realized with a small smile.

Arthur drove to the Van Der Linde ranch, knowing that he had IV lines and fluids available there if Eli needed it. He pulled up the long driveway to the barn, thought better of it and pulled up to Hosea and Dutch's house instead. It felt unacceptably predatory carrying Eli up the stairs and putting him into the bed where they had slept together. The last thing Eli needed was to feel as though Arthur was taking advantage of him, and the only other option in his barn apartment was the futon where Charles was no doubt already asleep.

Arthur tried to help Eli stand, but he was gone to the world, still muttering to himself, mumbling and trembling. Arthur picked him up, one arm around his shoulders under his back, the other under his thighs. With a small grunt of effort, Arthur lifted him out of the Bronco and carried him into Dutch and Hosea’s home, depositing him in the guest bedroom. He tugged off Eli’s shirt, which was splattered with vomit, pulled off his shoes and retrieved a glass of water for him, taking his pulse when he sat back down on the bed to check on him. Eli blearily looked up at him.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay with me. Please.” Arthur started to shake his head, but Eli’s eyes were pleading, innocent. Arthur sighed and nodded, keeping his clothing on but stripping off his boots and socks before sitting on the bed next to where Eli was lying.

“Drink some water, Eli,” he instructed, holding the glass out to him. Eli took it and sipped at it before handing it back. Before Arthur could move away or object, Eli cuddled against him, still shivering slightly; he felt warm enough, but not too warm. He stared up at Arthur and struggled to push himself upright, smashing his lips into Arthur’s without preamble.

It was tempting. Arthur would be a liar if he said otherwise. Eli was making soft whining noises and tearing at his own clothing, grinding against Arthur lazily in the kind of behavior Arthur knew could accompany a dose of ecstasy. Eli moved his lips to Arthur's throat, nuzzling and then suckling there, hard enough to leave a hickey, but Arthur forced himself to freeze, to put a hand on Eli's chest to stop him before things went any further. Eli felt his hesitation, felt that he was not reciprocating, and he let out a little keening wail of discomfort and irritation, but the hand on his chest stilled him.

“Shh, Eli. Stop. You need to sleep this off,” Arthur told him, moving out of reach and setting the water glass down.

“But I want you, Arthur,” Eli begged, “please.”

_“No,”_ Arthur said firmly. “Eli, go to sleep,” Arthur ordered, making his voice stern but still soft as he peeled Eli away. Eli let loose a small cry of disappointment, but obeyed, rummaging slightly into the blankets until he was submerged in fabric.

"Arthur?" came Eli's voice a few minutes later, small and frightened.

"Yeah, Eli?"

"Please don't fire me." Arthur bit back a laugh.

"Why the hell would I fire you?"

"Cuz...'pparently...did drugs. Thought...was just alcohol...but _drugs_ ," Eli mumbled in a miserable voice, snuffling into his pillow and cuddling tight against Arthur, who had tentatively stretched out on the bed. Arthur smiled and stroked an errant hair behind Eli's ear in a comforting gesture.

"Don't worry about it, Eli. You're alright." Eventually, Eli dozed off and Arthur scooted away from him, stripping off his clothing and showering before he returned now dressed in an undershirt and boxers. He slept on top of the covers, only allowing himself to doze off after he sent a quick text to Ms. Grimshaw.

**Arthur Morgan:** Eli and I won’t be able to make it in tomorrow. Go ahead and close up the clinic once folks come by to pick up their animals and meds. We’ll reschedule other appointments.

**Susan Grimshaw:** Everything alright?

**Arthur Morgan:** Fine. We’ll see you on Monday.

\-------

Eli awoke to the sound of bacon sizzling in a skillet. He sat up, feeling deeply, achingly depressed. He put a hand to his head.

“Fffuck,” he murmured, trying to figure out where he was and what had happened and also… “OH SHIT WHAT TIME IS IT?!” Eli darted out of the bed, stumbling and tripping over the luxurious bedding he had been nestled in when he realized that late morning light was streaming into the unfamiliar window of the room he was in. He scrambled out of the doorway, down a familiar hall and into a large main area that housed a kitchen, a great room and a dining nook. This was Hosea’s house. And that was Arthur’s broad back, his thick legs clad in plaid boxers. Oh shit. What had happened last night? “What happened last night?” Eli blurted. Arthur turned to him.

“Mornin’, Eli. You feelin’ alright?” Eli did a cursory inspection of himself, paying special attention to his more intimate parts but nothing felt out of place or sore or injured. But his head hurt and he was unbelievably thirsty.

“I…I’m fine, I think. What happened?”

“How much do you remember?” Eli squinted at Arthur’s back. He had turned back to the stove to flip the bacon.

“I gotta say for the record: that is never a good question to have to answer.” Arthur chuckled lightly, but Eli frowned, disturbed. “Did we…?”

“No. I don’t make it a habit of takin’ advantage of folks who’re high out of their minds.” Eli froze.

“What? Arthur, I swear to God, I didn't, I don’t do any of that, the worst thing I’ve ever done was smoke some weed and…”

“Eli, you’re fine. Somebody slipped somethin’ into your drink. Ecstasy, I think, or somethin’ like it.” Eli squinted, bits and pieces of the evening coming back to him now.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Shit. How’d I end up here?”

“Tried to call Hosea. I think my name was just after his in yer phone. Matthew, Morgan.”

“Been meanin’ to ask, how’d you end up with different last names?” Eli asked, though he was only half-listening as he tried to remember the events of the last evening.

“We all kept our given names,” Arthur answered. “John’s is Marston. Dutch is the only odd man out not startin’ with ‘M.’ Speakin’ of, I really need to call Hosea real quick. You mind keepin’ an eye on this?”

"Sure," Eli agreed, standing and walking to the stove, taking the spatula from Arthur's hand. He tried to ignore the way Arthur's white t-shirt gripped his firm pecs, and the way the air conditioned coolness of the house made his nipples stand starkly erect. He especially tried to ignore the speckled red mark of a hickey on Arthur's neck.

When Arthur returned, he was quiet, a line furrowed between his brows.

"Everything okay?" Eli asked, unsure where they stood and still unable to remember most of last night, but he was getting snippets of kissing Arthur, of grinding against him, of acting like the whiny little bottom he knew he was and he felt his ears burning in embarrassment.

"Dutch got arrested last night."

"What?!" Eli blurted, leaping back from the stovetop as bacon grease flicked onto his bare chest from his startled motion.

"They think he had somethin' to do with that explosion in Houston."

"Oh shit. Then why are you here?" Eli asked, frowning. Arthur met his eyes, swallowed.

"You needed me." Eli's brows rose.

"Arthur, you should go, you should go to Houston and I'll go home. I'll call an Uber if I need to." There came the new question of where the hell he had left his jeep, he thought with a small scowl.

"It's fine, Eli. There ain't nothin' I can do there that Hosea ain't already doin'. He's sortin' out bail money right now, but they gotta wait for a judge and it's Saturday."

"Um...I was supposed to work today," Eli thought aloud as Arthur pointed out the day.

"Don't worry about it. I let Ms. Grimshaw know. And I'll dock your pay accordingly," he joked with a small chuckle. Eli was less than amused. He set the spatula down, letting Arthur take over again. Running his hands through his hair, he let loose a little moan of frustration at himself.

"I gotta get home, check on Spud." Take my meds, he added in his mind, feeling like boiled dogshit. "First I gotta find my jeep," he muttered.

"You don't gotta look far. It's right outside."

"Oh Christ, thank you, Arthur."

"But I don't want you drivin' today, Eli. I can drop you off at your house." Eli thought of Arthur seeing his house - empty beer bottles strewn everywhere, fast food and microwave dinner refuse on every horizontal surface.

"I...it's okay, I'll drive myself home, Arthur."

"Eli?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you just spend the day with me? I'm worried about you. You got drugged with somethin' last night and you refused to go to the hospital. I'd really feel better if I could monitor you. I can pick up your dog and bring her here. I bet she'd like to go for a run out here, chase some cattle." Eli chuckled.

"She probably would but...but I...I also need to pick up my..." Shame flooded him. Arthur held up a finger, retrieved his satchel from the hat rack by the door and held up a familiar orange container with a white lid. He made a show of tipping a single green tablet into his palm and took it with a swig of coffee before returning the pill bottle to his bag.

"Propranolol," Arthur said, not looking at him, just tending to the bacon and cracking four eggs into the skillet. "I take it for anxiety. Every day, twice a day." He turned to Eli. "Eli...takin' care of yerself ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. Whatever meds you need, you definitely need 'em now. So you can either come with me and get 'em yourself, or you can tell me where they're at and I'll get 'em."

Eli felt a hard lump form in his throat and he swallowed it, blinking to force away a sudden sheen of tears that had risen unbidden.

“I…I’ll come with you to get them. My place is a mess.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed. “You want some toast?”

“Sure,” Eli croaked past the sob that was still trying to work its way out of his chest.

Arthur sat two plates down on the small circular table in the dining nook and poured Eli a cup of coffee.

“So. I need to shift some cattle around today, keep my mind off whatever's goin' on with Dutch. Wanna help after we swing past your place?" Arthur asked this with an air of affected nonchalance, but Eli actually did feel like being outside and on horseback. It had been a while since he had ridden, and much though he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Arthur, he found he couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Sure," he said, feeling as though he sounded over-eager.

"Alright. Finish up your breakfast, we'll go," Arthur said with a small smile, shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth. "I gotta run over to my apartment and grab some clothes, back in a second." He pulled his boots onto bare feet and duck walked to his apartment, leaning against the inside of the door for a moment to collect himself as soon as it was shut behind him.

So. Dutch was in jail. Eli had slept next to him and wanted to spend the day with him. Conflicting emotions ruled Arthur, but at the moment, nothing seemed more appealing than being close to Eli. He wanted to talk with him. Exist with him. Maybe he could try this again. So what if he was the laughingstock of the town, the vet who only hired fellas so he could date 'em? Maybe it would work out this time. He swallowed and shook himself, pulling on a robin’s egg blue pearl snap shirt and comfortable jeans, as well as a fresh pair of socks and his boots. Arthur brushed his teeth, combed his hair and washed his face, running a thumb over his stubble before deciding it wasn't worth the hassle of shaving today.

As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, Arthur let his hand linger over the hickey Eli had left on his neck and he felt his cock twitch at the memory of Eli's soft lips against his throat, of tongue and wet and suction. He let out a soft moan, want pouring through him, the urge to pad back downstairs and into the main house to bend Eli over and have his way with him almost overwhelming. He made himself take a breath. The last thing Eli needed right now was for Arthur to give into the temptation of being with him again before they had both had an opportunity to sort their feelings out. He thought that perhaps if he rubbed one out, maybe he could think a little more clearly, stop letting his emotions and his wants rule him.

Arthur sat down on the edge of his bed, sliding his jeans and his boxer briefs back down to his knees, letting his cock rest in an open palm, heavy and hardening as he let his mind wander. In the past, he had forced himself not to think about Eli this way, but knowing that Eli still wanted him made the temptation just too much. He wanted Eli too. Wanted to nibble at his lips, wanted to bite his jaw, wanted to slide his hand down that smooth belly and grasp his cock. He wanted to sink his fingers into Eli's hair as Eli wrapped his lips around his cock, sucking and moaning around it, his eyes hooded and wanting. He wanted to hear those needy, breathy moans forced from Eli again as he thrust himself deep inside of him, bucking his hips against Eli's ass as tightness and warmth enveloped him. Arthur pumped himself in time to his imagination, his palm rubbing over the head of his dick, his fingers tickling carefully over his scrotum and teasing lightly at his hole. He wanted Eli to ride him, whining to be filled, begging for Arthur to fuck him hard into the bed before pulling out and spilling himself all across Eli's handsome face.

"Oh...oh shit," he muttered as the movement of his hand over his own cock slowed and he orgasmed into his palm with a small cry. Arthur waited until his breathing had returned to normal, cleaned himself up and stepped outside, clambering down the steps back to Hosea and Dutch's house after grabbing an extra shirt for Eli.

When Arthur returned to the dining nook, Eli was on his phone, fiddling with something and ignoring the half-eaten food on his plate. The younger man looked up with a friendly smile and Arthur felt his cheeks burn red, remembering how he had just used those lips in his mind. He cleared his throat and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "'Bout ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure," Eli said. "Just gotta grab my shirt."

"It's in the wash," Arthur said. "Brought you a t-shirt to wear." He tossed it to Eli, who caught it and stretched it out so he could look at it.

"'The Tahiti Mangoes,'" he read aloud, sounding amused.

"Our local softball team," Arthur admitted with a sheepish chuckle. "I'm the pitcher." Eli tugged the shirt on and though it was a size too big, it fit him well enough. They climbed into Arthur's Bronco and Eli directed him to his home.

Arthur pulled up to the small pier-and-beam house, waiting for instruction from Eli.

"Promise you won't judge me too harshly if I invite you in?" Eli asked, his face earnest. "Been a rough few weeks," he muttered, blushing.

"I ain't in no position to judge, Eli." Arthur followed him up the porch steps and inside after he unhitched Eli's jeep from his Bronco. "I'll give you a ride home later today," he explained.

Eli's house wasn't really that messy, but Arthur was amused at the sheer number of beer cans and bottles the younger man had managed to populate on every available surface. "Hungry Man" food wrappers and an assortment of fast food containers attested to Eli's lack of cooking ability. Feeling a warmth rising in his gut, Arthur thought that maybe he ought to start bringing Eli some home cooked food to eat... He tried to squash that streak of affection, but found that he couldn't, found that, instead, he couldn't help but gaze at Eli in adoration as he moved around his house with little awkward motions, turning Spud out into the backyard and pouring her some food and grabbing his medication and changing into clothing more suitable for riding.

"Eli," Arthur started, and he abruptly realized that he hadn't composed an ending to that sentence, he had just wanted to say his name, to get those wide hazel green eyes to look at him again. "Might oughta grab a hat. It's sunny today," he forced out.

"Er...I don't really own a hat that covers anything but my eyes. I think I might have some sunscreen around somewhere," Eli replied, glancing around as though what he was looking for would become obvious amidst the chaos.

"Here," Arthur said, stepping forward and plopping his own hat onto Eli's head with a smirk. "It'll do for today, kid." Eli tightened the muscles around his lips, giving him a look of profound irritation.

"Quit callin' me ‘kid.’ You're what, thirty-five? I'm twenty-eight, you aren't that much older than me," he challenged, his eyes flashing.

"Alright," Arthur agreed with an amused look. "Whaddaya want me to call you instead?"

Eli thought for a moment, straightening the hat on his head. _Sweetheart. Darlin’. Yours,_ offered his mind and Eli swallowed and forced the pet names out of his mind.

"I figure 'Eli' works as well as anything. Unless you've got some other nickname for me," he prodded with a slightly flirtatious look. Arthur grinned.

"I'll have to think of one."

"You do that," Eli said softly and the moment stretched between them until Spud yipped at the door, wanting to be let back in. “Let me grab her harness.” Eli ducked into his bedroom, sucking in a deep breath, his heart thundering with excitement, longing. But then came the aching agony of having no serotonin left whatsoever, a side effect from whatever he had been drugged with. His thoughts grew melancholy and downright mean, his internal monologue serving him a not-so-kind reminder that Arthur had rejected him. It reminded him, in vivid, cruel detail, that Arthur had only come to get his stupid ass after he got himself drugged because for all Eli claimed to want to be careful, he never actually followed through. He was stupid. So incredibly stupid for letting himself throw caution to the wind. And he couldn’t even call for help right. He had fucked up and called Arthur instead of Hosea, like some pining schoolboy who can’t get over his crush. The idea settled his mind that the only reason Arthur wanted to spend the day with him was to babysit him. He clenched his fists in his lap, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He picked up Spud’s leash and stepped out of his room, his enthusiasm appropriately quashed so far as his mind was concerned. Arthur just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to go off the deep end, no doubt.

“Ready to go?” Arthur asked, and Eli knew the note of excitement he heard in his tone was just eagerness to have this whole thing done with.

“Yeah,” Eli said softly. “Come here, Spud.” He loaded her into the back of Arthur’s Bronco and clambered into the passenger’s seat, remembering a flickering, unsure memory where he scooted across the bench and leaned his head against Arthur’s shoulder. His cheeks burned red and he swallowed. Arthur looked over to him.

“Hey, you alright?”

“‘M fine,” Eli muttered.

“So, Hungry Man, huh?”

“What?” Eli asked dumbly.

“Saw them microwave meals. You oughta come by my place another day, I’ll show you how to cook up a few easy things.” Eli stared for a moment, unsure if Arthur was serious.

“Oh, okay, sure, I guess.” Arthur cleared his throat.

“Look, Eli, today’s gonna be rough. I…well, let’s just say I was a bit wilder when I was in college. That stuff throws your brain chemistry off for a coupla days. Be gentle with yourself. And if anything gets to be too much today, you just let me know.” Eli clenched his teeth, a mild rage at being patronized flaring in his chest and for a moment he wanted to blurt that just being near Arthur when he knew he wasn’t wanted was too much, but he held his tongue. Arthur seemed to sense his unease and he reached over and turned the radio on, singing along to the last minute or so of “I’ve Got a Tiger By the Tail” so that they didn’t have to make conversation as he drove.

As though the entirety of Eli’s existence was some kind of cosmic joke, the next song was “I Fall to Pieces” by Patsy Cline.

Arthur got as far as “You want me to act like we've never kissed” and he dropped his volume, muttering the rest of the song, falling into a kind of breathy hum as he stared resolutely away from Eli. Arthur felt a sigh of relief force its way out of his lungs when the next song the DJ put on was “Act Naturally” and he went back to singing happily as Eli sulked and felt sorry for himself. Pulling up to the ranch, Arthur saw that Charles had gone somewhere, his silver Prius nowhere to be found. He opened the barn doors and strolled inside, allowing Eli to follow at his own pace as he grabbed one of his spare hats to replace the one he had lent to Eli. Arthur grabbed two saddles, holding one by the horn while he slung the other over his shoulder. He called Cain, who came running up, his tail wagging happily.

“Hey boah. You gonna help us round up some cattle?” The dog gave a happy yip and barked when Spud trundled over. The two sniffed one another and then bounded off, growling and panting as they play-fought, flopping around in the grass and then tearing off, taking turns chasing one another. “She does pretty well with just the three legs,” Arthur commented, pleased. “Grab them blankets and bridles right there, would you, Eli?” Eli obliged, though he jumped when Arthur suddenly let loose an ear-piercing whistle.

Distantly, Eli could hear nickers, excited whinnies, and hoofbeats. In a few moments, a band of horses of many colors and sizes galloped up to the barn. Arthur patted one of them and indicated that Eli should pull on the bridle. He did so obediently and the horse tolerated it, playing with the split metal bar in its mouth with a wide pink tongue. It was a beautiful gelding, long-legged with sleek dapple grey coloring and a stark white blaze up its nose in the shape of a question mark. “That there’s ‘Que,’” Arthur informed Eli, pronouncing the name “Kay.”

“Kay?” Eli asked.

“Like the Spanish word ‘what,’” Arthur explained with a little smirk, jutting a finger at the blaze on the gelding’s nose. Eli huffed a small laugh.

“Wow.”

“If you can’t appreciate a good pun, I don’t know if we can be friends anymore, Eli,” Arthur teased, sliding a brush over Que’s back and then dropping a blanket and the saddle on before tightening the girth. “You know how to adjust the stirrup length?” Arthur asked. Eli nodded and climbed up after patting Que a few times. “He goes easy, just be careful not to give him too much head or he’ll take off on you and buck you if he can.”

“Noted,” Eli said, pulling up some of the slack in his reins. Arthur saddled a bright red mare with an attitude. She kicked at the other horses gathered around, squealing and laying her ears back when they got too close.

“Easy, girl. You’re alright. Easy now,” Arthur chided and she settled as he tightened the girth and then climbed on. “That’s my girl,” he told the big animal proudly, his eyes glittering with affection as she turned her head and nibbled on the toe of his boot. “Alright, we gotta go down to the wayback pasture and stir up some cattle that have been back there gettin’ fat on wild oats. We’ve already burned a hell of a lot of daylight, so I’m planning on gallopin’ down there and lettin’ Boadicea warm up. You alright handlin’ Que?”

“I know how to ride a horse, Arthur,” Eli told him dryly, feeling momentarily guilty for the nasty tone he had just used when he saw Arthur’s happy expression falter. Eli was in a truly nasty mood, though, with no sign of an end to it. His head ached and the sun, even beneath the hat Arthur had plopped on his head, felt too hot and his mind was keeping up a harsh internal monologue of self-hatred that was wearing him down. Arthur spurred up his mare and was off in a streak of red and blue, leaving Eli behind. Que pawed the ground and let out a little annoyed squeal, so Eli nudged him forward and let him have some of his head. The horse stretched out into an easy lope, champing at the bit and trying to grab it and yank more lead from Eli’s hands. The wind on his skin was the best thing he had felt all day, as was the speed, the power of the animal moving beneath him, all bunched muscles and ornery excitement. “Where exactly are we headed?” Eli hollered over the wind roaring past his ears.

“That big tree way out there,” Arthur pointed, and Eli grinned, mischief giving him a little jolt of energy.

“Race you.” Arthur’s teeth shone in the light of the late morning sun as he smiled widely.

“You’re on. Careful with him, though, remember the bucking!” But his words were drowned out as Eli gave Que all of his lead, loosening the reins against Arthur’s warnings, wanting to run, wanting to escape, wanting to get somewhere all simultaneously, a tumult of emotions battering him.

“Ya!” he hollered, “get up!” and Que readily complied, his long silver legs eating up the familiar ground beneath his hooves as he lowered his head and stretched out his neck. Eli bent low over the saddle, one hand pressed to the top of his hat, his thighs gripping the saddle and his feet holding him up in the stirrups slightly with every hard beat of Que’s hooves. As the wind from Que’s speed smacked against his face, Eli felt his eyes watering, felt liquid stream from them and he let out a loud holler of satisfaction and rage and joy.

Que was like pure energy over the ground, tearing toward the distant tree, his tail whipping behind him, his ears laid back tight against his head as he, too, let out a cry of joy at being allowed to run, zooming across the massive pasture like a wild animal. When, at last, Que and Eli reached the tree, they had left Arthur and Boadicea far behind. Eli made Que walk, pacing around the tree until he cooled and took a massive breath. “Good boy, Que,” Eli assured him, patting his neck, and he realized suddenly that he was crying. He sniffled, wiping his nose and eyes quickly before Arthur reached him a moment later.

Arthur glanced to him and immediately looked away, saying nothing for a minute as Spud and Cain bounded up, scuffling and barking.

“They say there ain’t nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse,” he murmured. “I always questioned the wording, but the sentiment’s there,” he said, giving a small chuckle at his own joke. “Eli…I ain’t never seen Que work that hard for somebody he just met. He likes to run but…I’ve never seen anything like that outta him. Look, anytime you wanna come by and ride that horse, far’s I’m concerned, he’s yours. Shit.” Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out and lit one.

Eli panted, trying to compose himself, trying to get control back over his emotions and not start crying again as he sat on Que, the big gelding pawing the ground impatiently. The reasonable side of him knew this rollercoaster of emotions was an effect of the drugs, but it didn’t help that he hadn’t let himself cry in years.

“I’m gonna head to the back of the pasture and push ‘em up. You catch on when they get close,” Arthur said softly, and he nudged Boadicea into action. Eli knew he was giving him time, giving him privacy, and he was deeply grateful for it. He climbed down off Que and patted his neck, waiting until Arthur was gone to give a gusting sob. Que, letting out a small nicker, flicked his ears back and forth and nudged Eli with his nose, curling his long neck around Eli. Eli wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck and let himself cry for the first time in years, gasping for breath as snot and tears streamed down his face in rivulets. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore and then he collected himself, his lungs and ribs sore from the sobs, his eyes gritty and dry. But he felt infinitely better.

Eli climbed back onto Que and watched as Arthur expertly wrangled the cattle, Cain a driving force on one side of the herd. Spud followed dopily, clearly not understanding the activity, but having a good time nonetheless. Eli grinned and wiped his face again, his heels tapping Que’s sides so he could chase the herd as Arthur pointed toward the gate he wanted them to file through. A stray cow took off to the right and Eli chased it down, whooping and pushing it back into the main group as Arthur whistled and hollered to force the rest of the herd to continue moving.

They repeated this process in stages, moving herds of thirty to fifty cattle to new pastures to give the grass time to regrow where it had been cropped short by grazing. By the time the afternoon sun burned down onto the massive ranch, Eli was dog-tired. He followed Arthur back to the barn, brushing and then rinsing off Que’s coat before turning him back out into the horse pasture. He hung around hopefully, nudging at Eli’s hand.

“He really likes you,” Arthur assured him again, tossing him a horse treat, which Eli gave to the big silver gelding.

“He’s beautiful,” Eli commented, stroking his head and scratching behind one sleek, pointed ear as the horse leaned into the touch with a small snort of happiness.

“I meant what I said,” Arthur told him softly. Eli turned to look at Arthur, his emotions more in order now that he had been given the opportunity to think during a hard day’s work.

“Arthur…I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend a lot of time together if…I just…it hurts me,” he admitted with awkward, stilted speech. Arthur nodded, approaching.

“I told you I’d think about it.”

“I know.”

“I ain’t had but a week or so to think about it, and in the meantime my dad’s in jail and I…I just need more time, Eli. Please.” Eli stared at him for a long moment.

“You’re saying you’re considering it?” Eli asked. Arthur scowled, a range of frustrated and torn emotions fluttering over his handsome features.

“Am I considering it? Of course I’m considerin’ it, Eli. I…” The words almost spilled out of his mouth. He had almost blurted ‘I’m crazy about you,’ but neither the timing nor the wording was appropriate. “I just need some time,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand on Eli’s waist. He craned his neck so Eli could see the mark he had left there. “The things you do to me…I just…”

“So I did do that,” Eli swallowed, feeling deeply embarrassed.

“Eli, you ain’t gotta be ashamed of how you feel, but last night and right now are not the time. You were drugged. Terrified. And I can’t blame you for why you lied. ‘Specially after you told me what happened to you.”

“What?” Eli asked dully, his body feeling like static. Arthur blinked.

“You told me last night. About why you gave your middle name.” Eli took a step back, his hand automatically going to his side, to the hard, gnarled scar beneath his ribs. Relief flooded him, combined with embarrassment, but that fled. Arthur had listened to him. It was finally out. What had happened to him, his reasons, finally.

“Oh thank Christ,” Eli breathed.

“If you ever need to talk about it…”

“It’s in the past, Arthur. Where it should stay. I…it fucked me up pretty bad, and I’ve tried to get better. I take my meds. But I still do dumb shit.” Arthur cupped a hand gently against his cheek, meeting his eyes intently.

“Don’t we all?”

“Yeah,” Eli breathed, “I guess so.” He found himself staring at Arthur’s lips, wanting very much to press his own there, but Arthur had just said he needed time, and he knew he needed a few days to process what had happened to him. Arthur pulled his hand away from his cheek and scratched his jaw awkwardly, looking a little embarrassed.

“How about I make us some lunch?” he offered.

“Sure,” Eli agreed.

“Better yet,” Arthur amended, “how about I take you somewhere?”

“You sure?”

“Just to talk. Get to know each other. Start again,” he explained.

“There’s something that needs to happen first,” Eli told him with a frown and Arthur looked concerned.

“What?”

“Hi,” Eli said, extending his hand after he affected a formal posture, “I’m Eli.” Arthur’s face split into a wide grin and he took Eli’s hand, shaking it.

“Hi Eli,” he murmured, “I’m Arthur.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Eli replied in a voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“Nice to meet you too.”


	9. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur realizes he made a grave mistake contact Colm O'Driscoll, and Eli tries to take Arthur home after a night of karaoke.

The phone rang for the tenth time and Arthur felt the little vein that ran along his temple beat out a staccato rhythm of both fear and rage. He had the loan payments under control now, though that had been quite the shitshow for a while. The beating he had taken by Strauss’ hired man had hurt his pride, but it was better than them hurting John. But this call…this call was a different can of worms. It rang again a few moments after he sent the call to voicemail and again the name came up on the little panel at the front of the flip phone – Colm O’Driscoll. Arthur knew better than to have opened that can of worms, knew better than to have ever contacted Dutch’s friend-turned-enemy. 

Years ago, as a teenager, Dutch had formed a tentative partnership with Colm O’Driscoll and the two of them caused chaos, protesting large corporations, vandalizing cars belonging to wealthy oil and chemistry company moguls and the like. The two had served some time in jail here or there, most often in the drunk tank after harassing someone important, but Colm’s brother Cillian wanted to take things further, wanted to start a gang and start making money if they were going to be on the wrong side of the law anyway.

Cillian partnered with the Mexican cartel in the southern reaches of Texas, importing and selling cocaine in Austin and the towns surrounding it. From what little Arthur had been told by Dutch, and it wasn’t much, Dutch had balked at the idea of selling drugs and refused to continue working with Colm. He walked away, getting out of that lifestyle and pursuing a degree in law. His refusal to help mule coke around the state put the O’Driscoll brothers behind on their payments to the cartel. The cartel didn’t care that Dutch was the reason for the delay, they only cared that Cillian didn’t pay them back for the shipment of coke in the allotted time. Colm had found his brother shot dead in a state park, just outside of Lajitas, their usual meeting place for transferring cargo. Though Colm himself cut off ties with the cartel shortly after, he had never forgiven Dutch for walking away, never forgiven him for his role in his brother’s death. Only Dutch’s status as a talented lawyer and the husband of a well-known actor had kept him safe from Colm’s wrath now that the man had formed a small gang. Colm's activities stayed well beneath law enforcement’s radar, most often since they couldn’t quite be considered crime, but his business practices certainly weren’t ethical.

Arthur, fool as he was, knew that Colm had his fingers in the horse racing business. He made much of his money betting on horses, and Arthur knew that he did this by drugging the horses he bet on. After Arthur had finished vet school, Colm had contacted him dozens of times just to nettle Dutch. It started out innocent enough. He had bought some legal painkillers for his horses, some dewormer and ordered Coggin’s tests through Arthur’s clinic. And while everything had been above board, the whole business worried Hosea, though Dutch appeared largely indifferent to the situation. His philosophy was always to ignore a problem until it became his problem.

Now it was Arthur’s problem. The phone rang again, and again Arthur ignored it, burying his face in his hands and leaning his elbows against his desk. Charles had left for his field season last week, and Arthur missed him already, wondering what kind of sage advice he would have offered if they had talked about it. Probably Charles would have called him a fool and told him just how to handle the situation, but Charles was miles away and entirely out of phone service range.

The clinic phone rang.

“Good Faith Veterinary Clinic,” answered Mary Beth in a pleasant tone. “Dr. Jensen? Oh, alright. One moment. Dr. Jensen,” she called.

“Yeah?” he answered from his office.

“There’s a Colm O’Driscoll on the phone for you.”

“Who?” asked Eli in a confused voice, reaching for the phone in his office. Arthur blasted in his door, covering Eli’s hand on the receiver with his own. Eli forced himself to ignore the shot of surprise and arousal this sudden grip sent through him. Arthur’s eyes were wide and his expression some combination of panicked and furious.

“Do not pick that up,” he said in a low tone. “Let me.” Arthur picked up the receiver, his face going stony and his blue eyes looking like chips of ice as he spoke. “I done told you, I’m out, Colm. I’ll sell you dewormer and I’ll send in your health records, but I ain’t doin’ anything else, you understand me?” Arthur hissed. There was dry laughter on the other end of the phone, then the buzz of a low voice. “You leave him outta this, y’hear me?” There was more talking from the other end of the line and Eli tried to flatten himself in his office chair, one auburn brow raised in surprise and curiosity. “Yeah, well fuck you too, Colm.” Arthur slammed the receiver down, his breaths coming in angry gusts.

“Everything alright?” Eli asked in a soft tone, putting a hand on Arthur’s where he had leaned against Eli’s desk. Arthur looked down at him, his expression softening.

“It’s fine, Eli. Colm O’Driscoll, he’s a problem client. He’s got history with Dutch. Hosea thinks he’s gotten himself involved with the IRA, but that ain’t it. He makes his money on selling drugs and racing horses.”

“And I’m guessing he wants you to dope the horses?” Eli asked. Arthur huffed a sigh.

“That’s about the size of it, yeah.”

“Arthur, you could lose your vet license if you get tangled up in that.”

_“I know,_ Eli. I know. When I had that…problem with the debt, I called Colm. Got him thinkin’ I might…consider…helpin’ him…” Arthur’s voice trailed off and he scowled and shook his head at himself. “It was stupid.”

“I don’t know if that’s a strong enough word,” Eli mumbled and Arthur gave him a sharp look.

“Just…don’t engage with him, alright? If you ignore him long enough, he’ll go away.”

“If you say so,” Eli sighed through clenched teeth. “When you say he and Dutch have history…?” Arthur closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

“Eli, I know you ain’t dumb enough to think that Dutch would get charged with blowin’ up an oil plant just because he’s a lawyer with a case against them. He did some dumb shit when he was younger. Got involved with the O’Driscoll gang. As far as Colm is concerned, Dutch is the reason his brother got killed by the cartel.” Eli’s eyes widened and he felt his blood pressure spike, felt his anxiety creeping up.

“As in the Mexican drug cartel?”

“Best as I can tell. He don’t talk about it much.”

“Jesus.” Arthur sat on the edge of Eli’s desk.

“I know you didn’t sign up for this shit, Eli, but even small towns have their drama. We don’t have any issues with the cartel here. You’re safe. And as for Colm, if I need to, I’ll see about getting him restrained from the property. If he calls again, we’ll ignore it. I’ll let all the techs know.” Arthur gazed at Eli, seeing how he had paled, how his breaths were coming shallow and fast. “Hey,” he reached out a hand, tipping Eli’s chin up. “It’s okay.”

“Alright,” Eli breathed, trusting Arthur. Kieran padded down the hall and Arthur removed his hand quickly, looking over his shoulder.

“H-Hey Doc, can I get your signature on this?”

“Shoa,” he agreed, turning away from Eli and accepting the form Kieran held out. “Did you follow up on the Johnson’s dog this mornin’? I wanna see how he’s doin’ with that cone.”

“They said he got out of it again, but he didn’t get at the sutures.” Arthur scowled.

“Tell ‘em that cone’s gotta stay on even if they have to duct tape it.” He turned back to Eli with a small smile. “No rest for the wicked. Dinner tonight?” he asked in a casual tone, but Eli could see a blush rising in his cheeks. He smiled.

“Sure.”

“Come over to the house at seven. John’ll be there, and Hosea, but it’ll be nice to spend some time together,” Arthur told him, stepping out of his office and straightening his stethoscope where it was draped across the back of his neck. “LENNY! You ready to go out to the stockyard? I got about a hundred inspections to get done, let’s move, kid.”

\-------

“It’s ludicrous!” Hosea fumed, running a hand through his white hair, wide-eyed and trembling with righteous fury. “Just because my husband chained himself to a few trees in his stupider years doesn’t mean he blew up an oil plant! For Chrissakes, he was _winning the case!”_ he half-shrieked into the phone. Eli could hear a tinny voice tinkling over the line, attempting to calm Hosea in a dull but apologetic cadence. He glanced over to Arthur who was busy chopping up onions for dinner while Eli tenderized the porkchops how he had been shown.

Eli had been invited over for dinner, but when he arrived and the door opened to allow him to enter, Arthur had held a finger over his own lips to indicate he needed to be quiet. Hosea had, Arthur informed him in a low whisper, been on the phone for over two hours trying to persuade someone at the Harris County Court to allow Dutch out on bail, but given that he was being charged with participating in an act of domestic terrorism, the judge had been unwilling to grant him bail and showed no sign of changing her mind about it from what Eli could gather from the heated conversation with a county clerk who had the misfortune to find themselves the target of Hosea’s fury.

John Marston sat at the dining room table, picking at his fingernails with a pocket knife. He had waved a lazy hand at Eli in greeting before Eli had been conscripted by Arthur to help with dinner.

“No, you absolute jackaknapes, I do not want to be put on hold so you can ask! I don’t care if it’s five minutes to closing or five hours after, I want my husband out of that shithole!” Hosea had a sudden coughing fit, wheezing and gasping for breath.

“Take it easy, old man. Those lungs ain’t what they used to be,” John commented in his odd, raspy voice.

“You hold your tongue or I’m liable to put my foot in your ass, John. Help your brother with supper, we have a guest! Do not hang up on me! Do I need to use smaller words so you can understand that all I am asking is that the judge reconsider… oh Jesus Christ,” Hosea snapped, slamming the phone down. “They hung up on me.” John stood to help in the kitchen before he found himself a victim of Hosea’s temper, but Arthur just indicated he should set the table, handing him a stack of plates and silverware.

Eli knew what Arthur was about, knew why he wanted Eli to help him and not John. While cutting vegetables and rubbing marinade on the porkchops, their arms bumped together, the sides of their hips in close contact. The past few days had been a pleasant haze, the two of them spending time getting to know one another. No intimate gestures had been shared, but they each found ways to touch one another. A hand at Arthur’s waist as Eli passed him in the hospital hall. The back of Arthur’s hand against Eli’s as they sat side-by-side watching an old Spaghetti Western with John and Abigail. Arthur sautéed the onions as Eli chopped lettuce for a salad, slicing up a tomato and some avocado and walnut to add protein. Since he and Arthur had spent the day together on Saturday, Eli had been fed at least one home-cooked meal a day and it showed. He felt better, his skin brightened and his anxiety seemed to lessen as he allowed Arthur to teach him how to take better care of himself.

They all sat down at the table to eat, Hosea still grumbling that the county court had hung up on him.

“A bunch of useless bastards, all of ‘em,” he declared before he changed the subject, chatting happily with Eli about his opinions on Hadestown. John and Arthur were playing some sort of game that involved stomping the shit out of one another’s toes beneath the dining room table before Hosea gave them each a look that would have soured milk.

“So, Arthur, I was thinkin’ about it: Abigail and I have our anniversary comin’ up. I wanna buy her somethin’ nice and I was wonderin’ if you ever play poker with Swanson and them other fellas anymore?” Arthur went deadly still and Eli froze as well, looking over at Arthur, remembering well a recent blackened eye and a story about a poker game that nearly lost John everything.

“Can I speak with you outside, John?”

“Why?”

“Now, I know you’re even dumber than you look, Marston, but you better get your narrow ass out there and you and I are gonna have a conversation, you understand me?” Arthur hissed, his eyes going wide and intense in his rage. Eli knew he should be uncomfortable, but he found himself oddly entranced by this sudden change in demeanor. The Arthur he knew was always so gentle. He was usually just quiet if he didn’t like you. But this was different. This was a wrathful older brother who was about to whoop his brother’s ass.

John’s lip curled and he flung his fork down.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Please excuse our rudeness, Eli,” he said, as though he was purposefully trying to embarrass Arthur. The two stormed to the backdoor and there were a few muffled sentences exchanged before Eli heard the sounds of scuffling and grunting. Eyes wide, he stared at the door to the patio.

“Sh-should we go break it up?” he asked, but Hosea just chuckled.

“You have any siblings, Eli?”

“No.”

“I thought not. Arthur and John have always fought like cats and dogs. They’ll sort it out.” There was a tremendous bang as someone was flung into the wall and then a curse and the sound of yet more blows. From the sound of the wheezy grunts and huffs, it sounded as though Arthur was winning. Sure enough, a few minutes later the two returned, Arthur’s hair in a wild haze around his head, John holding his jaw delicately and glaring at Arthur.

“Now that you’ve got that out of your system, it’s time for dessert,” Hosea declared, as though this was a daily occurrence. Eli thought that perhaps it was when they were younger, given that conversation continued as normal.

“So, Marston, you end up gettin’ that contact to build for Van Horn Development?” Arthur asked around a bite of chocolate mousse, wiping his bloodied lip genteelly on his napkin. Eli had to resist the urge to let out a nervous tittering laugh at the abrupt change in demeanor.

“No, actually.” John cleared his throat. “Gonna hafta find some other contract. There’s that new neighborhood goin’ up just outside of town. We’ve got contracts for a few of those, but these damn big businesses make it tough.”

“You’ll figure it out. Just make sure no one else has to make sacrifices for you the next time you do something dumb.” Both Arthur and John stared at him, dumbfounded. “Oh, stop pretending that either of you are good at hiding things from your dear old dad, boys. You,” he pointed at John, “know better than to put money on card games, you damn fool. And you,” this time a finger jutted at Arthur, “should know that you can come to me with anything, Arthur. Especially if you’re in a scrape for someone else’s debts. I paid off the rest, so you shouldn’t be hearing from Strauss again anytime soon.” Hosea let out a tired sigh as his sons stared at him, at a loss for words. “Boys, I can only deal with one idiot family member at a time and I’m married to _Dutch_ so please, for the love of God, rein in the stupidity.”

“I, um, I need to use the restroom,” Eli announced, scuttling away to the nearest bathroom. He stepped in and splashed water on his face, unused to being involved in family business. Unused to being in a family that loved one another unconditionally despite poor choices and hurt feelings, he realized, his chest warming. This was a good place to be.

\-------

Several weeks passed and Dutch was still not allowed bail. Hosea spent much of his time fighting for Dutch’s freedom and Arthur threw himself into his work, threw himself into teaching Eli every procedure he could think to teach him, bringing in cases specifically so that Eli could learn. Any waking minute that wasn’t spent learning was spent working out or training Spud, or slipping over to the Van Der Linde Ranch to ride Que with Arthur. But still, Arthur never let himself get too close, never let Eli lean in and kiss him. It was slow, agonizing torture and only the constant work kept Eli from tossing and turning in bed every night from frustration. The days he wasn’t utterly exhausted, he laid back and stroked himself to the thought of Arthur. The thought of pleasuring him, of riding him until sweat was dripping down his back, the image of Arthur tugging him by the hair and purring “good boah” in his ear while he pounded into him from behind a constant montage in his mind as Eli sought pleasure from his own hand, crying out Arthur’s name as he came across his own belly.

Yet another week passed and Arthur caught Eli in the hall.

“Karaoke night’s tonight,” he pointed out. “You ain’t been since we all went as a clinic. Want to come with me tonight? As a date?” Arthur added, looking down slightly to avoid Eli’s gaze. Eli’s brows rose.

“Of course.”

“Good,” Arthur grinned, “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Eli cleaned himself up and put on his most Western-style attire and was waiting for Arthur right at eight. He had also cleaned his entire house, throwing away all the trash, dusting and vacuuming every surface and making sure his sheets were clean and tidy. After a few moment’s consideration, he also spent a chunk of time manscaping and he chose his newest pair of tight-fitting black boxer briefs beneath his jeans. He was bringing Arthur home tonight, he had decided. He had expected a honk outside when Arthur arrived, but what he heard instead was a firm knock on his door. He cracked it open and was surprised to find Arthur standing there in a red plaid shirt and his best jeans, his hair slicked neatly back beneath his usual gambler’s hat and a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“I, um, didn’t know if you liked flowers,” Arthur said in his deep voice, sounding a little self-conscious.

“They’ll liven up the place,” Eli said, accepting them and pouring water into a pint glass before placing the bouquet in it on his rickety dining room table. “I like ‘em. Did you pick them yourself?” he asked.

“Yup,” Arthur confirmed. “You ready to go?”

“Waiting on you,” Eli smiled, and he held back a laugh as Arthur insisted on opening the Bronco door for him. The Cut Throat was packed, as usual, but Javier waved them over immediately.

“What can I get you two gentlemen?” he asked.

“Shiner, please,” Eli responded.

“Same,” Arthur shrugged, and they sipped beer as they looked through the songbook. Arthur chose a song and went up on stage when he was called. Eli’s face went dreamy as Arthur began to croon. He sang “Ocean of Diamonds” and Eli blushed when Arthur made eye contact with him as he sang. A few jealous eyes turned to Eli, but most of the looks he received were friendly, knowing smirks. Well. So much for being subtle. Feeling emboldened by Arthur’s obvious flirtation, he pulled Javier aside and amended his choice from “Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show to “Any Way You Want It” by Journey.

Eli sang with gusto, though he didn’t quite have the nerve to meet Arthur’s eyes while he sang. He was pleased when the audience clapped and hollered encouragement to him, clearly enjoying his enthusiastic performance. When he returned to the bar where Arthur sat, he turned to him.

“Buy you a drink, friend?” Eli offered with a wink. Arthur’s rumbling chuckle was more music to his ears than the terrible caterwauling that was now happening behind him on stage, but Eli ignored it, all his focus on Arthur. Eli reached out a hand, took Arthur’s and leaned in, putting his lips close to Arthur’s ear, nibbling it gently. “Wanna get outta here, cowboy?”

“Eli,” Arthur objected softly, turning his head slightly so that he could meet Eli’s eyes.

“We don’t have to leave, there’s always the bathroom,” Eli teased. Arthur turned fully so that he could hold Eli’s full attention and he held his gaze seriously.

“I want to do better for you than that, darlin’,” he murmured and Eli swallowed as Arthur reached up a hand to softly caress his lower lip with the calloused tip of his thumb. Eli bit the side of his lip, his adoration for Arthur skyrocketing at the soft look the older man was giving him.

“Then let’s go back to my place,” he prodded. Arthur shook his head.

“Maybe I’m old fashioned, Eli, but I wanna court you. I shouldn’t have just had my way with you in the bathroom that first time and then taken you home. And I shoulda insisted that you stay the night.”

“Please,” Eli begged, his eyes widening in an intentional impression of a puppy. Arthur scoffed a little regretful laugh.

“I promised myself I’d go slowly this time, Eli.” Eli scowled, both disappointed and flattered at Arthur’s insistence.

“Alright, alright. But you owe me a song.”

“Oh?” Arthur asked, raising a brow. Giving him a teasing grin, Eli held up a finger and walked over to Javier, who threw his head back and barked a loud laugh after Eli made his request. “Oh Lord,” Arthur muttered, unsure what would happen next.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s give the town a show.” Eli drug him into the small stage and the music for “Old Town Road” began to play.

“You didn’t,” Arthur groaned. Eli grinned.

“I did.” Eli ground against Arthur as they sang together, Arthur’s eyes glittering with amusement while their audience cackled and hooted encouragement. Eli and Arthur found themselves inundated with drinks sent by amused townsfolk and eventually had to offer the drinks to friends so they didn’t end up drunk. “That was fun,” Eli commented, taking a shot of Jack that had been sent over by one of their clients. “This was fun, Arthur,” he encouraged, putting his hand over one of Arthur’s.

“We could for a ride tomorrow,” Arthur suggested, taking Eli’s hand. The younger man smirked.

“You could go for a ride tonight, cowboy.”

“Stop it,” Arthur laughed, but he allowed Eli to drag him outside by the hand. As soon as they were in Arthur’s Bronco, Eli reached a hand over and drug it suggestively over Arthur’s groin. “Unf,” Arthur let out a little grunt, biting his lower lip, “you’re gonna be the death of me, boah. Quit it,” he implored. “Let me treat you right this time.” Eli fake-pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But you don’t get to make me wait this long for a date and not at least kiss me good night,” he insisted.

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur said dryly as he drove them the short distance back to Eli’s house. He walked with Eli to the door, frowning when his phone began to ring for the fifth time in the past two minutes. Arthur ignored it, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Eli’s lips, but before he could do so, his phone rang again. “Hang on a minute,” he said in an irritated voice. “Hello?”

“Arthur. It’s Officer Bell.”

“Micah,” Arthur ground out. “What the hell do you want?”

“Well, that is quite a way to speak to an officer of the law,” Bell drawled and Arthur resisted the urge to crush the phone in his hand. “I just thought you might want to know that your clinic is on fire.”


	10. Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli puts himself in danger and the FBI starts sniffing around Tahiti. Dutch finds a reprieve and old enemies get what's coming to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Fire  
> CW: description of frightened/panicking animals  
> CW: injury

For some, anxiety affects them worst during times of extreme stress. Test taking, job interviews, and the like will ramp up feelings of inadequacy and panic. For Eli, his anxiety was worst if the situation directly impacted his future, so he often did poorly on standardized tests and though he was very intelligent, he had struggled to get the grades he needed to attend veterinary school. If, however, the situation was important for the health or safety of someone else, Eli’s anxiety disappeared at the drop of a hat. Which was why, as soon as he and Arthur pulled up to the burning vet clinic, he immediately jumped out of the Bronco and ran _toward_ the building, not away.

“Eli!” Arthur hollered, a note of panic in his own voice. Eli, his mind very clear, turned back for only a moment to explain.

“We have to get the animals out!”

“You can’t go in there! Those oxygen tanks could blow at any time, we’ll have to get the fire stopped before we look for any surviving animals, I’m sorry,” said one of the volunteer firefighters.

“I am not letting animals burn to death,” Eli said levelly, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over the blaze and hoses and the sound of dogs barking in panic.

“Eli wait!” Arthur shouted. Volunteer firefighters were working hard to control the blaze, and one of them tried to grab Eli by the shoulder, but he shook free, darting toward the building. He ducked through a wall that used to be the side of the front lobby, giving a cry of pain as a burning lump of ceiling tile fell as a gob onto his arm. He shook it away, reorienting himself in the inferno. He had to get the animals out. He had to save them. They couldn’t die like this. His eyes were watering and his throat burned, but still he struggled forward, his burned arm held in front of his face like a shield. A two by four fell, smacking hard into his side and his eyes went wide at the familiar sensation of having the air knocked out of him, his lungs shuddering and his ribs aching. Still, he forced himself forward, toward the frantic shrieks of dogs and cats in panic.

“I’ve got you,” Eli called to them as he forced his way into the kennel area. “It’s alright, I’m here.” He opened the pens containing the cats and let them run loose, knowing they would have to find a way out on their own, unable to snatch them and force them to safety. He grabbed three dogs by leashes, slung a Chihuahua under his armpit and threw the last animal, an obese Labrador, over his shoulder. “Come on,” he hissed, his teeth clenched, the shout of encouragement more for himself than the animals. A shrill squeal of something wet burning sounded nearby and he forced himself not to look at it, unsure if it was something that would explode in his face. The fire was lapping closer and closer to the surgical suite where the oxygen and anesthesia tanks were kept. He knew, with a kind of terrible calm, that if he was still in the building when it reached them, he and all the animals with him would die.

Legs trembling, sweat running in rivulets down his back, Eli drug the terrified dogs along behind him, shooing a cat that had crawled into a corner to hide out into the open. He kicked away half the front door, all that was left of it, and stepped out into safety, going to his knees as firefighters ran up, taking the dogs and forcing him farther away from the building, jamming a mask over his face and telling him to breathe. Cats darted away from the orange-red glow of the flames, slinking into the trees nearby. Better lost than burned to death, Eli thought, feeling suddenly very weary and very lightheaded.

“That was the dumbest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Arthur told him, his voice trembling with rage and terror, but he suddenly pulled Eli into a tight embrace. “You dumb son-of-a-bitch, you coulda died,” and Eli realized that there were tears in Arthur’s eyes, either from the smoke or from the depths of his emotion. Clenching his jaw with a creak, Arthur turned away from Eli and to the emergency responders. “Is the building sound enough for me to get the horses outta the barn?” Arthur demanded as one of the firefighters approached with a spare jacket.

“We’ll have to be quick, but the fire hasn’t reached the barn yet. You, you, with me,” the firefighter ordered, grabbing two others with axes and one with a hose. Arthur looked over his shoulder at Eli one last time and rested his hand on his shoulder for a moment as he spoke.

“You stay there and rest Eli. You done good, boah. Real good. I’m so angry I could spit, but I’m proud of you.” With that, he followed the firefighters, circumventing the fiery inferno that now engulfed the back of the clinic and making his way to the barn where he lead out horses before the fire could spread to the secondary building.

The main clinic building blazed hot and there were pops and small explosions as gas and drugs were consumed by the fire. When the fire engulfed the surgical suite, Eli knew that the clinic would be a complete loss, the exploding oxygen tanks causing a sudden blossom of white-hot flame. Arthur returned to his side, looking numb and world-weary. Eli reached out a hand, took Arthur’s weakly, squeezing it. The firefighters, with the help of local animal control, contained the horses and dogs, moving them away from the fire. Arthur stared blankly, clearly in shock.

“It’ll be okay, Arthur,” Eli murmured through the oxygen mask, wiping a smear of black ash from Arthur’s jaw. Arthur looked down at him, his face pained.

“I…I need to call the techs,” he said softly.

“I’ll take care of it,” Eli assured him, but Arthur grabbed his shoulder.

“No, you just keep breathin’ in that oxygen. I’ll talk to Ms. Grimshaw.” Arthur stepped away, and by the time he returned, Eli had extricated himself from the oxygen mask and was leaning against the Bronco, his face pale in the orange light of the blaze. “There’s nothing else we can do tonight, Arthur. Can we go home?” Arthur looked at Eli, a blank expression on his features.

“Shoa. Nothin’ I can do right now ‘cept get some sleep. A shower.”

“You can stay at my place, if you want. It’s late.” And it was, nearly three in the morning now.

“Eli,” Arthur began.

“Look, I’m not, like, putting the moves on you or anything, but I know if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t want to be alone. I know Charles is out of town and Hosea’s dealing with the Dutch situation. I’ll sleep on my couch.” Arthur said nothing as he drove the old truck toward Eli’s house, and he followed him inside, his shoulders slumped. They both reeked of smoke. “The shower’s in there. I’ll rinse off after,” Eli told him, feeling his ribs aching and his arm throbbing. Arthur was in and out of the shower quickly, utilitarian in his use of Eli’s things. Eli took a slightly longer shower, letting the water rinse the smoky smell out of his hair and allowing himself to breathe in the steam deeply, his lungs aching from the smoke he had inhaled before he had been handed a mask, the burn on his arm just above his left wrist stinging painfully beneath the stream of water.

Arthur laid on the couch with a towel around his waist and Eli scowled, taking his hand and tugging him up.

“Bed. Now,” he ordered.

“I don’t want you losin’ sleep on my account,” Arthur argued.

“Then I’ll sleep in the bed with you, Jesus, you stubborn ass.” He tossed Arthur a pair of running shorts, forcing himself to look away from the tight-fitting material that squeezed Arthur’s ass and thighs and groin in all the right places.

“Let me see that burn,” Arthur murmured, taking Eli’s hand and turning his arm so he could see his wrist. Arthur gently swabbed the wound with cotton from Eli’s first aid kit, covering the wound in a silver cream and then binding it loosely with gauze. “Don’t want it to get infected,” he explained and his touch lingered on Eli’s arm long after the wound was bound. Eli stared at him until he looked up, his beautiful blue-gold eyes awash with tenderness. “You are…exceptional,” Arthur breathed. “Brave,” he said, kissing Eli’s palm where he brought it to his lips, “Selfless,” he whispered, leaning in close and kissing the curve of Eli’s shoulder, “and a damn fool,” he finished, meeting Eli’s soft gaze. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he whispered, his lips just a breadth away from Eli’s.

“So am I,” Eli teased, and he trembled at the way that Arthur’s lips so close to his own sent goosebumps over his skin, his pupils dilating and his cheeks growing red.

“We should get some rest,” Arthur pointed out, and Eli felt exhaustion hit him like a train at the reminder. Any lust or excitement he was feeling ebbed away as the adrenaline in his system receded, leaving him wanting nothing more than to sleep. He slid on a pair of boxers and laid down in the bed patting the space beside him so that Arthur would join. Eli kept space between them so that Arthur could choose to come close if he wished. He did, slinging an arm over Eli’s waist and seeking his hand in the darkness.

“Bet you didn’t see this comin’ when you were lookin’ over that job ad,” Arthur commented in a tired voice.

“It’s been interesting,” Eli said in a neutral tone. “Arthur. Who do you think started that fire?”

“What makes you think someone started it?” Arthur asked around a yawn.

“The autoclave was in one piece when I went in. So was the dryer. Unless it was something electrical that started it…”

“Let’s just sleep, Eli,” Arthur begged and Eli forced his mouth shut and cuddled closer to Arthur.

\--------

Arthur awoke with a start, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His arm was numb and when he looked over to see why, he realized it was pinned beneath Eli’s waist. For a moment, he allowed himself the sensation of pure joy that waking up next to Eli gave him. And then reality came crashing in. His clinic had burned last night. He pulled his arm out from beneath Eli and sat up, retrieving his phone. There was a voicemail.

“Hey Arthur, it’s Virgil with the Tahiti Fire Department. We were able to contain the fire to the main clinic for the most part, but it looks like it’s going to be a total loss. Look, um, there’s a few things about the fire you’ll need to discuss with the police, so if you could give me a call when you get this.” Arthur clenched his jaw and stretched, not at all ready to begin the shitshow that was dealing with local law enforcement and his insurance company.

Another voicemail, this one from Susan.

“Dr. Morgan, wanted to see what plans were. I told the staff to take the rest of the week off, but we’ll need to discuss how we’re handling pay. And Arthur…take care of yourself, hon.” Arthur heard a yawn behind him and turned to look at Eli in all of his sleepy glory. His reddish-brown hair was a wild haze around his head and he rubbed at his hazel-green eyes sleepily. Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the soft trail of red hair in the center of his chest that ran down his belly and to his groin had been buzzed short, sending a jolt of surprise and amusement through him.

“Mornin’, Eli,” Arthur croaked, his throat sore from breathing smoke last night.

“I’d offer to cook us breakfast, but I don’t have much in the way of food in the house. Let me let Spud out and we can go get some breakfast at Pearson’s.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed, happy for any excuse not to deal with the fire yet. “I’ll need to grab some clothes, though.”

“I’ve still got that baseball shirt of yours,” Eli called as he let Spud into the backyard.

“And pants?” Arthur asked dryly.

“Hmm. Good point. Ah, here” Eli responded, rummaging in a drawer. “I’ve had these for a bit. They’re a bit too big for me, but they oughta fit okay.” He tossed Arthur a pair of sweatpants and Arthur pulled them on, reddening as Eli gave him a slightly lascivious look. “Sorry,” Eli muttered with a laugh in his voice. “You fill those out…really well,” he commented.

“Hush,” Arthur chided him.

The two went over plans for how they would handle the destruction of the clinic over breakfast, Arthur explaining the insurance he had purchased, though he expressed concerns about the fact that there was something that needed to be discussed with police and fire investigators about the fire.

“Luckily, I’ve got our records backed up on an external server, and we can still service our clients out on ranches, though we’ve only got the tools that were in the barn and in our cars,” he said regretfully. “Everything else will have to be replaced.”

When Arthur dropped Eli off back at home, he promised to contact him soon.

Eli heard nothing from Arthur for four days, but he was finally able to get into contact with Nicole, who apologize profusely for her recent absence when he called.

“You know how it is, Eli. Life gets hectic.”

“I know,” he said, still feeling a bit hurt.

“How are things with Arthur?” Eli spent the next thirty or so minutes covering everything with commentary and excited noises provided by Nicole.

“So, are you planning on staying there permanently? Trying to settle down with him?”

“Jesus, Nicole, he’s only been interested in trying to maybe date for like a month. We’re taking it slow. The night of the fire was the first time he’s tried to kiss me since, well, since the whole mess when we first slept together. And now this fire, it’s just…it’s complicated.” Nicole let loose a groan and Eli changed the subject, asking her about how she had been. He listened happily as she told him about a guy she had met, and he provided all the same kind of encouragement she gave him, teasing her about the dates she had described and asking for juicy details. He finally let her go and went for a run, finding himself running toward the clinic, though he turned back before he reached it and ran back home, not wanting to see the extent of the destruction.

Stepping out of the shower, Eli heard a knock at his door and his heart skipped a beat, hoping that it was Arthur. It was not. The man standing at the door was dressed in a dark charcoal suit with a muted red vest beneath it. His face was pockmarked with old acne scars and his blue eyes were cold and calculating.

“Can I help you?” Eli asked, his tone suggesting that he did not want to help the man in the slightest, but he instead preferred the man leave, immediately.

“Are you Dr. Eli Jensen?” the man asked. Eli frowned, standing a little taller.

“Who’s asking?” The man pulled a badge from his breast pocket and showed it to Eli.

“Agent Milton. FBI. Do you have a few moments to talk?”

\--------

“What the hell d’you mean ‘he’s been taken in for questioning’?” Arthur demanded of Officer Bell. He had stormed down to the local police station as soon as he had heard that the FBI was questioning Eli. “Why does the FBI even want to talk to him? I still don’t see why the FBI is even looking into the damn clinic fire,” he hollered, feeling his blood pressure skyrocketing with all of this nonsense.

“Calm down, Morgan. They’re just askin’ him a few questions. You gotta admit, it’s a little suspicious, what with everything going on with Dutch.” Arthur paced toward Bell threateningly.

“You leave him outta this, Micah.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Mr. Morgan, but that’s mostly because this fire suggests that Mr. Van Der Linde is quite innocent,” drawled Agent Milton, stepping out of a side room. He had been grilling Arthur and Hosea and all of Arthur’s employees for the past several days, and he had warned Arthur against contacting anyone while the investigation was ongoing. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when Eli stepped out of the interrogation room. “I have everything I need. Mr. Morgan, I’ll be in touch. You and your colleagues are free to continue work, but make sure you’re available to be contacted about testimony.” Arthur barely contained a growl at the unpleasant man, and he put a hand on Eli’s back protectively when he approached.

“You alright?” he breathed, pulling Eli close. The younger man looked surprised, but didn’t resist his embrace.

“I’m fine, Arthur. He just asked me a bunch of questions I didn’t even know the answer to. Where the hell have you been? You haven’t been answering your phone and I didn’t want to just show up at your place.”

“Sorry,” Arthur said, still standing close to Eli but releasing him. “They didn’t want me talkin’ to anybody. Apparently the Cornwall explosion and the clinic fire are related. I don’t know how yet, but I do want to get the hell out of here.”

“Want to go for a ride?” Eli asked and Arthur’s eyes snapped to him, assessing whether he was being suggestive or not. Arthur nodded.

“I reckon Boadicea could use some exercise, shoa.”

Eli met Arthur at the ranch and the two saddled their horses and wandered around the property, taking turns pointing out birds and snakes and other wildlife. They froze when a beautiful white-tailed deer stepped out of a band of trees and snorted, flicking its ears at them before it continued on its way. Arthur nudged Boadicea closer to Que and reached out to take Eli’s hand. They sat in peaceful silence as the sun began to set.

\------

The next month and a half was full of activity. Arthur purchased a portable building and moved it onto the clinic property so that they would have somewhere to work. All but one of the cats turned loose in the fire turned up one by one, much to Eli’s relief. Most of their work was now done in the horse barn, which had largely escaped unscathed. Dutch was released from jail. Apparently the accelerant and burn patterns between the oil company and the vet clinic matched perfectly. After FBI questioning, it was determined that Seamus Hughes, one of Colm O’Driscoll’s lackeys was responsible for both fires.

After further investigation (and entirely too much of Agent Milton sniffing around Tahiti), it was determined that the oil plant explosion had been planned by the O’Driscoll gang to frame Dutch. The vet clinic was a purely foolish move on Seamus’ part, a thing done out of spite since Arthur had “disrespected” Colm. Arthur didn’t think Seamus would last long in prison given that Colm O’Driscoll had been arrested as well, as had most of his gang. In the meantime, Arthur was left to piece together his business. Fortunately, insurance covered the cost of rebuilding.

Arthur stood next to his brother, looking over the plans John had drawn up for him.

“Shoulda picked you up as a suspect, Marston. You’re gettin’ a contract just when you need one.”

“Shut up,” John chuckled, jostling Arthur after his brother elbowed him in the ribs.

“Hmm. That room needs to be bigger,” Arthur commented, pointing a blunt finger at the blueprints. “Add some square footage, I want it to be comfortable.”

“But it’s just an office,” John argued. “It’s a waste of space.” Arthur swallowed.

“It’s Eli’s office.” John gave him a knowing look.

“Oh. I can make the window bigger too,” he suggested, his sentence delivered in the tone of a question.

“Do it,” Arthur said immediately as he watched Eli across the way. The younger vet was chatting happily with a client, his always-pleasant demeanor clear as the small wrinkles next to his green eyes scrunched up in a genuine smile. Arthur felt his heart flutter in his chest. John followed his look.

“He ain’t like Albert, you know.”

“Albert wasn’t a bad guy,” Arthur reminded him.

“No. But he wasn’t the right guy for you. That fella…he’s sweet on you. And he likes it here. Even talked to me about gettin’ on the softball team. He’s here to stay, Arthur, I got a feelin’ about it.”

“How about you, John? You gonna quit doin’ stupid shit and gettin’ yourself in trouble?” Arthur asked him, concern in his voice. John grinned.

“Gonna hafta. Abigail’s pregnant again. It’s a girl.”

“What?! John that’s great!” Arthur exploded, his brows rising in excitement and a wide grin breaking across his face.

“Shh, don’t tell nobody. I wasn’t supposed to say nothin’ yet,” John shushed him as Eli paced over.

“Planning on doing any work today, cowboy?” he teased Arthur.

“Keep it up and you won’t even get a closet for an office, Eli,” Arthur told him, but his eyes were glittering with mischief.

“I’m gonna go make these adjustments, Arthur. I’ll catch you later. Eli.”

“John.” Eli tipped his cap at the thin man, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak again.

“Hey, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the fruit farm with me tomorrow?” Eli asked, his hands in his pockets in a posture of extreme shyness.

“The fruit farm? Why?”

“To, you know, pick some fruit. Maybe have a picnic,” Eli explained softly and Arthur smiled.

“As a date?”

“As a date,” Eli confirmed.

“Shoa,” Arthur agreed. “Want to do dinner tonight?”

“N-no,” Eli stuttered out, hating himself for saying it. “I, uh, I’m kinda into this whole ‘courting’ thing we’ve been doing and I’ve got, like, zero self-control around you, so…” Arthur gave a half-smile that showed a few white teeth.

“Alright. Pick you up in the morning?”

“I’ll pick you up, actually. Nine okay?”

“I’ll have coffee ready,” Arthur promised.


	11. Sounds Like A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli arrives for the date he has planned and is disappointed when things go wrong, but an impromptu plan turns out better than he could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: SMUT. Oh so much smut.  
> CW: Anal sex  
> CW: Oral sex  
> CW: Anal fingering  
> CW: Unsafe sex

The past month and a half had kept Arthur extremely busy. What with dealing with the insurance company, driving to Houston to testify in the case against the O’Driscolls and trying to make sure Hosea and Dutch didn’t murder one another now that the mistakes of Dutch’s past had once again been brought to life, he didn’t have much spare time for Eli. Eli knew this and didn’t hold it against him, never expecting anything from Arthur. But every day, like clockwork, homemade food showed up in the clinic fridge with Eli’s name on it. Every. Single. Day. He would walk into the makeshift portable building that served as their lobby and exam room, step to the minifridge that Lenny had donated and find something wholesome for him to eat every day. Which was why Eli wanted the chance to return the favor, to take Arthur to a well-known fruit and vegetable farm in the area where he could pick produce to cook with, or to eat fresh. Eli had done his research, had discovered that the place also offered a flower garden where one could pick and assemble their own bouquet. It was the perfect date idea, Eli thought, something he and Arthur could enjoy together, and an activity that would allow them time to talk to one another.

Arthur had already opened up to him quite a bit over dinners and in spare moments spent riding Que and Boadicea together, telling Eli about his parents’ deaths, how Dutch and Hosea had adopted him when he was ten and then adopted John as a toddler a year later. Eating a picnic out in one of the pastures, Eli had, in spurts, and false starts and with his voice shaking with emotion, opened up to Arthur about his own parents. Very religious. Kind, so long as you agreed with their beliefs, but infinitely cruel when Eli did not conform to their opinions on what a son should be. Arthur had put a gentle hand on his shoulder, letting him swallow the lump that formed in his throat as he spoke.

Eli had realized over the past month and a half that he wanted to do everything in his power to make Arthur happy, wanted to return the favor of his kindness and his gentility. Biting his lip as he drove toward the Van Der Linde Ranch, he realized that despite the fact that they had not been intimate since their courtship began, he had fallen in love with Arthur. He still saw the doubt in Arthur’s eyes when they ate together, or rode together, that constant fear – _are you going to leave me too?_ He could tell that Arthur had been holding himself back, still keeping himself from growing too attached, still convinced that this wouldn’t work out in the end. Eli had to prove to him that it would, had to prove that he really wanted him, that he wanted to be here, to stay here not just because he was his resident, but because he _wanted_ Arthur in a way he had never wanted anyone else before.

Eli swallowed hard, desperately hoping that this date would go well. He pulled up to the Van Der Linde Ranch, trying to decide if the Led Zeppelin shirt, khaki shorts and comfortable sneakers he had worn were adequate. Maybe he should have dressed up a bit more? Should he have brought Arthur something? He remembered a disastrous attempt at making Arthur cookies once and shuddered. No, he would have to be good enough, he decided, puffing out a hard breath. Eli parked his jeep outside the barn and tried for the twentieth time that morning to get his wavy mass of dark red-blonde hair to cooperate, but it insisted on existing as a mass of tight curls and loose waves, untamable. Scowling and checking his teeth in his rearview mirror, he tried to calm his nerves before realizing that he had absolutely no idea how to alert Arthur to his presence without going into the barn. Arthur’s apartment door was inside the building. Eli, feeling a little mischievous, tossed a small pebble up at one of the windows, half wishing he had a boombox he could hold over his head, just to make Arthur laugh. The pebble struck the glass, making a soft _tick_ noise and Eli waited for a response, nearly jumping out of his skin when Arthur tapped him on the shoulder.

“You vandalize the domiciles of all the fellas you’re tryin’ to woo?” Arthur teased. He had been feeding Boadicea an apple around the side of the barn and had heard Eli pull up. Eli grinned and turned to face him.

“No, just you. But the nineteenth century called and would like the word ‘woo’ back,” Eli chuckled, accepting the cup of coffee Arthur handed him, taking a sip and then setting the mug on the hood of Arthur’s Bronco. “You ready to go?” Arthur stared out across the wide, green pastures, nodding toward a thick patch of blue-black clouds on the horizon.

“Didn’t you say that fruit farm is east of here?” Eli turned to look east…toward the massive storm clouds that were gathering and growing, huge cumulonimbus clouds almost black with the rain they carried. As if it had received a cue to provide dramatic impact, a flicker of lightning streaked across the massive line of clouds and a few seconds later a shuddering boom of thunder vibrated through the humid air. How the fuck had he forgotten to check the weather? Eli’s stomach sank.

“Shit.” Arthur put a hand on his waist in a tender gesture, pulling Eli closer as he saw the disappointment cloud the younger man’s face.

“You could help me clean and polish some tack,” he suggested and Eli groaned. “And we could watch a movie after.”

“On the couch?” Eli asked softly, his eyes darting from Arthur’s intense gaze to his soft pink lips.

“Yeah,” Arthur confirmed, stepping close.

“So, we go polish some leather,” Eli breathed, one corner of his lip raising in a smirk, “get it nice and oiled up…”

“Then go upstairs,” Arthur continued the narrative, running a finger down Eli’s arm as another boom of thunder rumbled.

“Lie down on the couch,” Eli whispered, his gaze holding Arthur’s as their lips came closer and closer. A few warm droplets of rain pattered around them and now Arthur’s fingers were running over Eli’s back at the curve just above his ass. Eli moved in, their breaths mingling, the familiar scent of mint and coffee barely detectable from Arthur’s mouth. “Maybe just…curl up and listen to the rain on the windows?”

“Maybe,” Arthur answered, his baritone husky with lust. “Is it alright if I…?”

“Can I kiss you…?” Eli asked simultaneously, his voice trembling with want.

“Yes,” they both murmured together.

Neither Eli nor Arthur could truthfully have told which one of them initiated the kiss. All they knew was that their lips crashed together, Arthur’s fingers tangling in Eli’s hair, Eli’s hands grasping at Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him down so he could deepen the kiss. A sudden crack of lightning much nearer than the first made them both jump.

“Maybe we should go inside,” Eli blurted and Arthur laughed.

“Come on,” he called, pulling the barn door open and leading the way up the stairs to his apartment door. Arthur closed it behind them just as the rain began to pour in earnest on the tin roof of the barn. He and Eli stood at a stalemate, panting, their clothing slightly damp from the rain.

“Arthur…” Eli’s back was against the door, Arthur towering over him, all wide-eyed intensity. “I think…I think we’ve courted long enough.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” Arthur blurted, and his hands sought the bottom of Eli’s shirt as he kissed him again, nipping Eli’s lower lip as he slid his t-shirt up and off him, tossing it somewhere behind him. Eli unbuttoned his shirt, panting in his haste, his want, his need to be closer to Arthur, with no layers between them. He reached for Arthur’s belt, the buckle jingling as he tugged it loose while Arthur fumbled with Eli’s shorts, yanking them down. “Come here,” Arthur commanded, picking Eli up in a fireman’s carry and slinging him over his now-bare shoulder, making Eli let out a squawk of protest that he squashed when he realized how alluring it was that Arthur had just picked him up effortlessly.

Arthur carried Eli into the bedroom, tossing him onto the familiar king-sized bed. Eli shoved his underwear off and Arthur followed suit, climbing onto the bed on top of him, their cocks sliding together, both of them already growing hard. Eli slid a hand between them, stroking them together as Arthur panted and shuddered above him.

“Wanted this…so long,” he stammered.

“Wanted you too,” Eli breathed in his ear, biting the shell of it gently and then lapping at it with his tongue. “I want you, Arthur,” he murmured as they slid together, slick with precum.

“Come here, darlin’,” Arthur purred, going to his knees on the floor and pulling Eli’s legs so that he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Arthur took his cock into his mouth, sucking just hard enough to make Eli’s toes curl, the sensation of warmth enveloping his cock nearly overwhelming after so long of just imagining this. Eli ran his fingers into Arthur’s hair with a soft moan, throwing his head back as Arthur slid his mouth up and down in an expert rhythm that had Eli nearly undone, Arthur’s hand caressing Eli’s balls, massaging the delicate tissue and his finger teasing at Eli’s hole. Eli stopped him, pulling him back up onto the bed, kissing him, tasting himself on Arthur’s tongue as their lips threaded together, exploring one another.

Eli pushed Arthur in the center of his chest, shoving him back onto the bed and returning the favor, taking Arthur’s thick cock into his mouth and humming softly as he flicked his tongue beneath the sensitive tissue at the head. Arthur moaned and fisted his fingers into the comforter, Eli’s name spilling out of his mouth like a song. Eli pressed a finger inside of Arthur, reveling in the surprised gasp it punched out of Arthur. Eli smirked and slid his mouth off Arthur’s cock, his finger grinding against Arthur’s prostate, milking precum out of him in pearly rivulets.

“For a top you sure seem to be enjoying this,” he teased. Arthur chuckled.

“What makes you think I’m not a switch?” Arthur rasped out. Eli raised a brow at that, interest in exploring that at a later date sending a little spark of excitement through him.

Eli looked up at Arthur for a moment, staring over hard muscles and a haze of soft blonde-brown hairs that dusted his groin and ran up his torso to his broad chest. Arthur’s head was leaning against the headboard and he had a sappy smile on his face, his blue eyes soft in the muted light of the room. Raindrops pattered against the window and in the peaceful stillness of the room, the only thing that could be heard over the rain and the thunder was their breathing, the soft, desperate suck of lungs to pull in air as they sought pleasure from one another. For a moment, staring up at Arthur, Eli saw him as a man out of time, a lonely cowboy who has spent too much of his life alone, trying desperately to connect with someone who could push past his gruffness, who could see the softness beneath his quiet strength and not see weakness, but beauty, and an aching need for touch, for intimacy.

Sliding up Arthur’s body, Eli sat in his lap, pulling him upright, one hand behind Arthur’s neck, the other cupping his jaw as he kissed him, kissed him the way he deserved to be kissed, with insistence and tenderness, their noses crashing together as Eli let loose a soft growl. He forced his tongue past Arthur’s lips, challenging him. Arthur gave a low moan, allowing Eli to take control, allowing Eli to push his head back as Eli vied for power, his hips stuttering forward and backward as he purposefully ground his ass against Arthur’s trembling cock where he sat with his legs parted over Arthur’s torso.

“Oh _ffffuck_ , Eli,” Arthur murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, breathless.

“Shh,” Eli prodded, pressing his thumb into Arthur’s mouth, his index finger caressing the divot at the tip of Arthur’s nose delicately, his other fingers resting softly against Arthur’s cheek. Arthur sucked Eli’s thumb, his rough tongue laving its pad, meeting Eli’s eye as he obediently pleasured the digit, Eli’s mouth falling open in a soft gasp as Arthur gave over all control, lying back as Eli set the pace. “I want you inside me, Arthur,” Eli told him, direct, ordering him in a way that had Arthur trembling with lust.

“Lube, top drawer,” he managed to get out in a strangled voice, pointing toward the bedside table. Eli reached across and grabbed it, daubing a slick of oily liquid over the top of Arthur’s cock as he rolled them over so that he was on his back beneath Arthur. Arthur ran his hand between Eli’s cheeks, impaling him on his middle finger, the end of it brushing over Eli’s prostate, making Eli’s toes curl again. He reached a hand up and scratched his fingernails down Arthur’s back, wriggling beneath his weight so that their cocks rubbed together.

“Arthur, please,” he whined and Arthur obliged, pressing the thick head of his cock against Eli’s entrance and then thrusting in, entering him with a ragged gasp, the fist holding up his weight clenching in the bedsheets as he fought to maintain control.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” Arthur moaned, and Eli began to move beneath him, pressing himself down before lifting his hips up off the mattress again and again, riding Arthur with hard strokes that made the bigger man shudder, his pelvis pressing Eli into the mattress to slow his movements. “Christ, boah, you gotta slow down or I’m gonna…” Eli slid off him, pushing on Arthur’s shoulder and he took the hint, sucking Eli off with slurping strokes of his mouth as he lazily palmed himself, keeping a slow pace so that he could last longer. Arthur met Eli’s eyes and popped his lips off Eli’s dick with an obscene noise that made Eli gasp with want. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” Arthur told him.

“At least you’ll die happy,” Eli smirked, wiping an errant strand of hair out of Arthur’s face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Come here,” Arthur growled, pulling Eli again into his lap again and sheathing himself inside of him with a grunt. Eli rode him, twisting and grinding his hips with his arms wrapped around Arthur’s neck and shoulders, supporting some of his weight. Arthur put his hands on Eli’s waist, helping him with the grinding up and down motion, driving his own hips up to seat himself more fully into Eli. Eli huffed a soft gasp as the head of Arthur’s cock drove hard into his prostate, making a dribble of precum trickle down his cock as Arthur moved within him. “Oh, darlin’, you’re gorgeous,” Arthur told him, his brows pulled up in the middle in an expression of adoration, of passion and longing and Eli wanted to watch him fall apart beneath his ministrations, wanted to break down his walls as they moved together.

“Call me ‘darling’ again,” he whispered in Arthur’s ear.

“Darlin’,” Arthur growled, his grip on Eli’s waist tightening as he began to feel the telltale signs of orgasm seizing him, shocks of pleasure radiating through his cock as he buried himself inside of Eli again and again, Eli’s muscular form writhing above and against him, his legs wrapped behind Arthur’s back.

“Now just ‘Eli,’” Eli breathed, and Arthur shuddered, reaching a hand between them to stroke Eli so they would finish together.

“Eli,” he moaned, “oh Christ, Eli,” he cried, increasing the speed of his stroking and the hard snaps of his hips against Eli’s ass and at last they both plummeted over the edge, Eli finishing with a cry and spilling himself all over Arthur’s hand as Arthur filled him with his own pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Eli mumbled, arching his back and leaning backwards, his chin toward the ceiling as they sat for a moment, Arthur still buried inside of him. “That was…”

“Incredible,” Arthur finished for him, tugging on Eli’s shoulder so that he would face him again and kissing him tenderly. Regretfully, Eli slid off of Arthur’s softening cock and out of his lap, clambering off the bed before a mess was made on the sheets. Arthur stood and guided Eli to the bathroom. “Shower with me?” Arthur asked.

“Of course,” Eli breathed, his chest warm. Arthur turned the water on and they both stepped into the spacious shower, Eli slicking his hair back out of his eyes as the warm water pattered against his back, matching the rhythm of the rain outside.

“We get done showerin’, I’ll make us some breakfast,” Arthur purred, stepping behind Eli and wrapping his arms around his waist, running one hand, slick with soap, down Eli’s belly and over his chest. His fingers stuttered over the scar and he felt Eli flinch. Arthur frowned. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Eli told him, hanging his head slightly. “But it’s ugly.”

“Naw,” Arthur objected, turning Eli to face him, “ain’t nothin’ about you ugly, darlin’. Come ‘ere.” He pulled Eli close, nibbling at his jaw beneath the stream of water, his lips grazing along Eli’s cheekbone and then down to his lips to kiss him again as his hand covered the scar. “I want all of you. I…” He stuttered, “I _adore_ all of you, Eli,” Arthur assured him as he ran a finger along the tattoo that curved beneath the scar.

Arthur cupped a hand behind his head, bumping his forehead against Eli’s. Eli felt peace suffuse him, felt as though this was where he was meant to be, in the embrace of someone who accepted his flaws, who saw past his anxiety and his terror and didn’t judge him for it now that he understood. Arthur’s hand over his scar moved and for the first time in years, he didn’t feel self-conscious about the mark.

The water pattering from the faucet began to cool and they finished scrubbing themselves clean, climbing out and toweling dry, both of them shivering from the cold. The storm still battered the barn with rain, thunder still occasionally rumbling through the building.

“I’ll make us some pancakes and put on another pot of coffee, then we can see about watching some movies,” Arthur suggested, pressing a kiss to Eli’s temple before pacing to the kitchen after he had pulled on some shorts.

Eli spent the entire day in Arthur’s apartment, curled up in his arms on his leather couch, watching old Spaghetti westerns before moving on to a World War Two film and then finally putting on _The Wrath of Khan_ as afternoon crept into evening. Eli let slip a single, muffled sniffle as Spock’s strangled voice said, “I have been and always shall be…your friend,” and Arthur pulled him close, rubbing a comforting hand along his shoulders.

“I probably oughta head home,” Eli murmured as the movie ended, stretching. Arthur felt a stab of disappointment and then bit his lower lip.

“Tomorrow’s supposed to be clear and sunny,” he started, giving Eli a tentative glance. “If that fruit farm’s open on Sundays...?” Eli sat up and tilted his head to the side slightly.

“I think so,” he said, tone cautious.

“So…guess we’ll go early tomorrow mornin’,” Arthur suggested, scratching beneath his chin with a little nervous flick of his fingers. Eli smirked and raised his chin up in a look of amusement and satisfaction.

“You want me to stay the night.”

“Well…course I do, Eli.”

“Arthur, I got Spud at home waiting.” Arthur scowled, but Eli grabbed his hand, pulled him in for a kiss. “I’m suggesting we stay at my place instead, cowboy.” Arthur’s face lit up happily and he nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	12. Three Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being together for three years, big changes are coming for Arthur and Eli

Eli held the envelope in a trembling hand, terrified to open it. Arthur tried very hard not to stare, but he couldn’t quite help it. He had sent the techs to lunch, having recognized the envelope when it arrived in the mail. It was an envelope containing the results of Eli’s board certification exam. Arthur’s heart thundered in his chest. The results of this test could radically change Eli’s future… _their_ future. Once board certified, he would be one of only a few board-certified equine veterinarians in the state, a specialist in caring for and performing surgery on horses. With this certification, he could start his own practice. He could move to work at a larger hospital or offer his expertise to a large breeding facility. They had been dating for nearly three years, living together for six months and though Arthur had known this day was coming, it didn’t stop him from dreading it, didn’t stop his stomach from flipflopping at the sound of manila paper being torn open.

Eli pulled the packet out of the envelope, reading over it, his face still, unreadable. He looked up at Arthur.

“I passed,” he breathed. There was a beat and a smile cracked across his face. “I passed! Arthur, I passed! I’m board-certified!”

“I knew you would be, darlin’,” Arthur told him, leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek. Eli frowned, his auburn brows drawing together in concern as he noted the troubled expression on Arthur’s face. Though he was generally upbeat, Arthur had moments of melancholy, shifts in his mood that he often tried to shrug away when Eli expressed concern.

“You look…sad,” Eli told him, taking his hand. Arthur pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Naw, just…it’s somethin’ new.” Realization struck.

“You think I’m gonna leave you,” Eli said, horror in his tone.

“I…maybe,” Arthur admitted, a little sheepish. This sort of thing was, after all, why Albert had left him. Arthur had told Eli about the gold band he had picked out, told Eli about how he was waiting for Albert to defend his thesis and graduate with his PhD before he proposed. And then Albert had been offered a post-doctorate position at Cornell and announced that he wanted to leave behind everything they had built in Tahiti. Heartbroken, Arthur had pawned the ring when Albert moved away and bought Boadicea instead, a companion in his grief.

Eli swallowed. Arthur thought he was going to experience the same thing all over again. Setting the envelope down, Eli pulled Arthur into a brief embrace.

“I am _not_ going to leave you, Arthur. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Arthur told him, his forehead nudging against Eli’s.

“It’s karaoke night tonight,” Eli reminded him, trying to break the seriousness of the moment. Arthur chuckled.

“And what does that have to do with the price of tea in China?” he asked, quoting one of Hosea’s favorite witticisms.

“And you usually want to go,” Eli pointed out, trying to cheer him up. Arthur smirked and let his thumb absently caress the inside of Eli’s arm where it rested on the table.

“You’re right. I do hate to miss karaoke night. But…don’t you want an actual party to celebrate?” Arthur argued. Eli grew beet red.

“Arthur, I barely like having an audience when I’m on stage. We don’t have to make a big deal out of this,” he assured him. “We’ll invite the techs and Ms. Grimshaw and Charles. I don’t need a big party.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed, but he held up a blunt finger accusingly. “But you gotta sing a song too. You skipped out last time and it wasn’t fair.”

“I was saving my voice for Les Mis last time, Arthur,” Eli argued.

“Don’t get yer panties in a twist, Mr. 8675309,” Arthur chided.

“It’s 24601, Arthur,” Eli corrected and he knew he had fallen into Arthur’s trap when he barked a laugh. “Let the techs know to be there tonight, I’ve got an appointment in a half an hour.”

“Eli,” Arthur called after Eli as he collected the envelope and stepped out of the breakroom. He turned on his heel and looked back to Arthur, expectant. “I love you.” A grin broke across his features.

“Love you too, cowboy.”

Eli stepped into his office and closed the door behind him, his heart thundering in his chest. He put his hand in his pocket and fiddled with the silver band there for the hundredth time that day and wondered once again if the timing was right.

\--------

“Jesus, it’s crowded tonight,” Arthur noted, shoving past a few familiar faces after tipping his hat to a few people. “Looks like everybody from the clinic made it. They always do love a reason to drink,” he hollered over the din, waving to Javier, who slid him a beer. He handed it to Eli and Javier poured another for him.

“Hola, amigos,” the thin man greeted. He met Eli’s eye and kept a stony expression, much to Eli’s relief. “What are we singing tonight?”

Arthur made up his mind, choosing “Kiss An Angel Good Morning” and Eli confirmed the plans he had discussed with Javier, feeling like he was going to pass out with nerves.

When, at last, he was called up on stage, Eli could feel sweat rolling between his shoulder blades, could feel his hands trembling. It was Arthur’s favorite artist. Arthur’s favorite song. And it was perfect. The trumpets began to play the beginning of the familiar tune and the entire bar whooped and applauded his choice of song.

_“Love is a burning thing…and it makes a fiery ring. Bound by wild desire I fell into a ring of fire. I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire, the ring of fire. I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire, the ring of fire. The taste of love is sweet when hearts like ours meet. I fell for you like a child,”_ Eli sang, meeting Arthur’s eyes and feeling his nerves calm in the face of the man he adored. “ _Oh but the fire went wild. I fell into a burning ring of fire…”_ He sang the song to completion, but kept the microphone in his hand, prepared to go down on one knee, prepared to say the words, but…no. This wasn’t the way Arthur would want to be asked. Karaoke was where things had gone wrong in the first place. Karaoke was just the start, but it wasn’t really anything more than fun for either of them. Arthur put on a show for his community using karaoke, entertaining and establishing a rapport, but, with all these eyes on him, Eli knew he would feel just as nervous, just as pressured as he had himself a few moments before. He swallowed hard and jabbed the mic at a confused-looking Javier.

“Change of plans,” he muttered.

“Seriously?” Javier asked, shocked. Eli grinned at him sheepishly.

“I have a better idea. Trust me.”

“It’s your party, amigo,” Javier shrugged, and he passed the mic off to the next singer.

“That was real good, darlin’,” Arthur told him, pecking him on the lips briefly and taking his hand.

“Do you wanna go for a ride?” Eli asked suddenly, his nerves giving his voice a slight shake.

_“Now?_ It’s dark. And…” Arthur huffed a sad noise and jabbed a hand at the stage, “karaoke.” Eli smiled.

“I know, it’s just…the night’s so nice. Please?” Arthur pursed his lips, glancing over the massive crowd of people who filled the bar before he nodded, his eyes when they turned back to Eli soft and affectionate.

“Anything for you, darlin’, but I think we oughta tell folks good night before we go considerin’ half of ‘em are here because of you.”

“You have no idea,” Eli mumbled, blushing, remembering how he had insisted people come, telling them what he had planned. He spread the word of his change of plans to a few carefully chosen folks and though there were a few disappointed looks, no one ruined the surprise and he and Arthur slipped out into the night.

Eli led the way out into the horse pasture, navigating the path by the light of the full moon.

“Thought you said you wanted to ride,” Arthur commented, and Eli could tell he was getting suspicious. Eli whistled for Que and both he and Boadicea came trotting up with a few other horses, all of them curious and wanting treats. Eli offered Que a horse treat he had in one of his pockets, shoving away a curious nose that nuzzled at the pocket that held the ring.

“It’s a nice night. I just…decided I wanted some time alone with just you and the horses.”

“You’re actin’ real strange, Eli. You feelin’ alright?” Arthur asked, his voice timid. He wondered for a moment if he was right, if Eli was going to leave and had just brought him out here to soften the blow. Eli looked over at Arthur, his eyes wandering over his fine cheekbones, his soft eyes, his gentle hands and he felt suddenly so overwhelmed with emotion that he felt half-strangled with it, nearly unable to get words out.

This felt right. Out in the pasture with only the horses for company, out where they were truly themselves. No performances, no need to impress or show off for anyone. Just two men, side by side. This was how it should happen, Eli decided.

“Arthur,” he said softly.

“Yeah, Eli?” Arthur croaked, terrified of whatever it was he was going to say next. Eli pulled the ring out and nudged Que out of the way. Eli waited until he had Arthur’s undivided attention and he swallowed and cleared his throat before dropping to one knee.

“Will you marry me?” For an instant, Eli very nearly thought that Arthur was going to say ‘no.’ His face went through a series of expressions, surprise chief among them as he stared at the ring Eli was holding up. Arthur finally ripped his gaze from the metal band and he stared into Eli’s eyes, his mouth widening in a jaw-cracking grin.

“Of course I will, darlin’.” Arthur pulled Eli to his feet.

“Why’d you look so surprised?” Eli asked as he took Arthur’s hand and slid the band into place. Arthur stared at the ring for a moment, flexed his fingers. He looked up sheepishly.

“Guess…guess I was still expectin’ you to leave.” Eli slid a hand behind his neck, cupping the back of his head and pulling him down so their foreheads met.

“I told you, Arthur. I’m not going to leave you. I hope this proves it,” he breathed. Arthur kissed him, his eyes closing tightly against a wave of overwhelming emotion. His voice was a little thick when he spoke next.

“I love you, Eli.”

“I love you, Arthur. I’m here to stay. I promise.”

“Let’s turn in,” Arthur beckoned him, taking him by the hand and pulling him toward the barn apartment.

“You don’t want to go back to The Cut Throat and tell everyone?” Eli asked, and Arthur smirked, pulling him in close and kissing him sweetly before biting his bottom lip.

“Nah. I got other ideas for celebratin’, darlin.”

If Eli had known that a job ad would have brought him nearly two thousand miles from home, away from his past and into a future where a gentle cowboy saw past his fear and gave him love, the only thing he would have changed was the name he told Arthur the night they met.

Arthur pulled him up the stairs, pressing him against the wall of the living room, unable to keep his hands off him long enough to get him to the bedroom. Arthur pressed his thigh between Eli’s legs, grinding against him, pressing soft kisses to his temple, his cheek, his neck.

Through a haze of adoration and want, Eli considered. Would telling Arthur who he was from the get-go have changed anything? Would it have kept Arthur from ever taking a chance on him?

No, Eli thought, cupping Arthur’s jaw and letting a ragged moan escape his lips as Arthur grasped him through his jeans, on second thought, he wouldn’t change a thing. Well. Maybe he would have changed what he named his dog. It kind of ruined the mood when he had to holler,

“Get off the bed, Spud!” 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are at the end. I wanted to keep this story relatively brief, but I will probably revisit this AU in a few one-shots and I have a prequel and a sequel outlined, though IDK if I'll ever actually flesh them out. Eli will probably also show up in original AU stories of mine at some point since he's my newest favorite child. Please comment to let me know what you thought. I accept prompts on Tumblr @finefeatheredgamer :)


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